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Form  No  513. 
Rev.1/B4 


A  VIRGINIA   GIRL  IN   THE 
CIVIL  WAR 


A  VIRGINIA    GIRL 

IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR 

1861  -  1865 


BEING   A    RECORD    OF 
OF    THE  WIFE   OF   A 

THE    ACTUAL    EXPERIENCES 
CONFEDERATE    OFFICER 

COLLECTED     AND     EDITED     BT 

MYRTA     LOCKETT    AVARY 

NEW    YORK 

D.     APPLETON     AND      COMPANY 

1903 


UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA 

ATCHAPHLMLL 


Copyright,  1903 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Published  February,  1903 


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INTRODUCTION 


This  history  was  told  over  the  tea-cups. 
One  winter,  in  the  South,  I  had  for  my  neigh- 
bor a  gentle,  little  brown-haired  lady,  who 
spent  many  evenings  at  my  fireside,  as  I  at 
hers,  where  with  bits  of  needlework  in  our 
hands  we  gossiped  away  as  women  will.  I 
discovered  in  her  an  unconscious  heroine,  and 
her  Civil  War  experiences  made  ever  an  in- 
teresting topic.  Wishing  to  share  with  others 
the  reminiscences  she  gave  me,  I  seek  to  pre- 
sent them  here  in  her  own  words.  Just  as 
they  stand,  they  are,  I  believe,  unique,  pos- 
sessing at  once  the  charm  of  romance  and 
the  veracity  of  history.  They  supply  a  graph- 
ic, if  artless,  picture  of  the  social  life  of  one 
of  the  most  interesting  and  dramatic  periods 
of  our  national  existence.  The  stories  were 
not  related  in  strict  chronological  sequence, 
but  I  have  endeavored  to  arrange  them  in 
v 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

that  way.  Otherwise,  I  have  made  as  few 
changes  as  possible.  Out  of  deference  to  the 
wishes  of  living  persons,  her  own  and  her 
husband's  real  names  have  been  suppressed 
and  others  substituted;  in  the  case  of  a  few 
of  their  close  personal  friends,  and  of  some 
whose  names  would  not  be  of  special  histor- 
ical value,  the  same  plan  has  been  followed. 

Those  who  read  this  book  are  admitted 
to  the  sacred  councils  of  close  friends,  and 
I  am  sure  they  will  turn  with  reverent  fingers 
these  pages  of  a  sweet  and  pure  woman's  life 
— a  life  on  which,  since  those  fireside  talks 
of  ours,  the  Death-Angel  has  set  his  seal. 

Memoirs  and  journals  written  not  because 
of  their  historical  or  political  significance,  but 
because  they  are  to  the  writer  the  natural  ex- 
pression of  what  life  has  meant  to  him  in  the 
moment  of  living,  have  a  value  entirely  apart 
from  literary  quality.  They  bring  us  close  to 
the  human  soul — the  human  soul  in  undress. 
We  find  ourselves  without  preface  or  apology 
in  personal,  intimate  relation  with  whatever 
makes  the  yesterday,  to-day,  to-morrow  of 
the  writer.  When  this  current  of  events  and 
conditions  is  impelled  and  directed  by  a  vital 
vi 


Introduction 

and  formative  period  in  the  history  of  a  na- 
tion, we  have  only  to  follow  its  course  to  see 
what  history  can  never  show  us,  and  what  fic- 
tion can  unfold  to  us  only  in  part — how  the 
people  thought,  felt,  and  lived  who  were  not 
making  history,  or  did  not  know  that  they 
were. 

This  is  the  essential  value  of  A  Virginia 
Girl  in  the  Civil  War:  it  shows  us  simply,  sin- 
cerely, and  unconsciously  what  life  meant  to  an 
American  woman  during  the  vital  and  form- 
ative period  of  American  history.  That  this 
American  woman  was  also  a  Virginian  with  all 
a  Virginian's  love  for  Virginia  and  loyalty  to 
the  South,  gives  to  her  record  of  those  days 
that  are  still  "  the  very  fiber  of  us  "  a  fidelity 
rarely  found  in  studies  of  local  color.  Mean- 
while, her  grateful  affection  for  the  Union 
soldiers,  officers  and  men,  who  served  and 
shielded  her,  should  lift  this  story  to  a  place 
beyond  the  pale  of  sectional  prejudice. 

Myrta  Lockett  Avary. 

New  York,  November  i,  iqo2. 


Vll 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — Home  life  in  a  Southern  harbor  .       .  i 

II. — How  I  met  Dan  Grey       ....  12 

III. — The  first  days  of  the  Confederacy     .  22 

IV. — The  realities  of  war        ....  38 

V. — I  meet  Belle  Boyd  and  see  Dick  in  a 

new  light 51 

vi. — a  faithful  slave  and  a  hospital  ward  59 

VII. — Traveling  through  Dixie  in  war  times  69 

VIII.— By  flag  of  truce 83 

IX. — I  make  up  my  mind  to  run  the  blockade  91 
X. — I  cross  the  country  in  an  ambulance 

and  the  Pamunkey  on  a  lighter       .  101 

XI. — The  old  order 113 

XII. — A  dangerous  masquerade  .       .       .       .124 

XIII. — A  LAST  FAREWELL 139 

XIV. — The  little  Jew  boy  and  the  provost's 

DEPUTY 144 

XV. — I   FALL  INTO  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY      .  15O 

XVI. — The  flower  of  chivalry  .       .        .        .172 

XVII. — Prisoners  of  the  United  States    .       .  188 

XVIII. — Within  our  lines 211 

XIX. — My  comrade  General  Jeb  Stuart  .       .  230 
ix 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

r'XX — "Whose  business  'tis  to  die".        .        .  244 

XXI. — Rescued  by  the  foe 263 

XXII. — With  Dan  at  Charlottesville       .       .  285 

XXIII. — "Into  the  jaws  of  death"     .       .       .  297 

XXrV. — By  the  skin  of  our  teeth       .        .        .  315 

XXV. — The  beginning  of  the  end       .        .        .  330 

xxvi. — how  we  lived  in  the  last  days  of  the 

Confederacy 349 

XXVII.— Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes.       .       .  365 


A  VIRGINIA  GIRL   IN 
THE  CIVIL  WAR 


CHAPTER   I 

HOME    LIFE    IN    A    SOUTHERN    HARBOR 

Many  years  ago  I  heard  a  prominent  law- 
yer of  Baltimore,  who  had  just  returned  from 
a  visit  to  Charleston,  say  that  the  Charles- 
tonians  were  so  in  the  habit  of  antedating 
everything  with  the  Civil  War  that  when  he 
commented  to  one  of  them  upon  the  beauty 
of  the  moonlight  on  the  Battery,  his  answer 
was,  "  You  should  have  seen  it  before  the 
war."  I  laughed,  as  everybody  else  did;  but 
since  then  I  have  more  than  once  caught  my- 
self echoing  the  sentiment  of  that  Charleston 
citizen  to  visitors  who  exclaimed  over  the 
social  delights  of  Norfolk.  For  really  they 
know  nothing  about  it — that  is,  about  the 
real  Norfolk. 

i 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Nobody  does  who  can  not  remember,  as  I 
do,  when  her  harbor  was  covered  with  ship- 
ping which  floated  flags  of  all  nations,  and  her 
society  was  the  society  of  the  world.  Milicent 
and  I — there  were  only  the  two  of  us — were 
as  familiar  with  foreign  colors  as  with  our 
own  Red,  White,  and  Blue,  and  happily  grew 
up  unconscious  that  a  title  had  any  right  of 
precedence  superior  to  that  of  youth,  good 
breeding,  good  looks,  and  agreeability.  That 
all  of  these  gave  instant  way  to  the  claims 
of  age  was  one  of  the  unalterable  tenets 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation, 
and  punctiliously  observed  in  our  manner  and 
address  to  the  older  servants.  The  "  uncle  " 
and  "  aunty "  and  "  mammy  "  that  fall  so 
oddly  upon  the  ears  of  the  present  generation 
were  with  Southern  children  and  young  peo- 
ple the  "  straight  and  narrow  "  path  that  sep- 
arated gentle  birth  and  breeding  from  the 
vulgar  and  ignorant. 

My  girlhood  was  a  happy  one.  My  father 
was  an  officer  of  the  Bank  of  Virginia,  and, 
according  to  the  custom  that  obtained,  he 
lived  over  the  bank.  His  young  assistant, 
Walter  H.  Taylor  (afterward  adjutant  to 
2 


Home  Life  in  a  Southern  Harbor 

General  R.  E.  Lee),  was  like  a  brother  to 
Milicent  and  me.  Father's  position  and 
means,  and  the  personal  charm  that  left  him 
and  my  mother  cherished  memories  in  Nor- 
folk till  to-day,  drew  around  us  a  cultivated 
and  cosmopolitan  society.  Our  lives  were 
made  up  of  dance  and  song  and  moonlit  sails. 
There  were  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  the  Roads, 
the  bay,  the  James  and  Elizabeth  rivers,  meet- 
ing at  our  very  door.  And  there  were  ad- 
mirals, commodores,  and  captains  whose  good 
ships  rode  these  waters,  and  who  served  two 
sovereigns — the  nation  whose  flag  they  float- 
ed and  a  slim  Virginia  maiden.  In  all  the 
gatherings,  formal  and  informal,  under  our 
roof,  naval  and  military  uniforms  predomi- 
nated. Many  men  who  later  distinguished 
themselves  in  the  Federal  and  Confederate 
armies,  sat  around  our  board  and  danced  in 
our  parlors;  others  holding  high  places  in 
Eastern  and  European  courts  were  numbered 
among  our  friends  and  acquaintances. 

Some  years  after  Commodore  Perry 
through  a  skilful  mixture  of  gunpowder  and 
diplomacy  had  opened  the  ports  of  Japan  to 
the  commerce  of  all  nations,  Ito  and  Inouye 

3 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

— not  then  counts — had  brought  into  exist- 
ence an  organized  Japanese  navy  which  sailed 
out  of  these  same  ports  to  the  harbors  of  the 
world  on  tours  of  inspection.  One  of  my 
most  vivid  memories  is  of  the  Japanese 
squadron  which  lay  at  anchor  in  our  harbor, 
of  the  picturesque  dress  and  manners  of  these 
Eastern  strangers,  and  the  polished  courtesy 
of  the  two  men  whose  names  are  now  a  part 
of  history. 

But  the  handsomest  sailors  I  ever  saw 
were  the  Prussians.  When  the  Prussian 
navy  was  in  its  infancy  two  Prussian  vessels, 
the  frigate  Gaefion  and  a  corvette,  dropped 
anchor  in  Norfolk  harbor;  they,  too,  were 
visiting  the  ports  of  different  nations  on  tours 
of  inspection.  All  the  officers  on  these  ves- 
sels, including  the  midshipmen,  were  noble- 
men, and  all  of  them  were  magnificent-look- 
ing men.  Then,  too,  their  brilliant  uniforms 
and  the  state  and  ceremony  with  which  they 
invested  every-day  life  made  them  altogether 
charming  to  a  young,  romantic  girl.  I  shall 
never  forget  how  they  used  to  enter  the  room. 
They  would  appear  in  full  regimentals,  march 
in  military  form,  the  frigate's  captain  in  com- 
4 


Home  Life  in  a  Southern  Harbor 

mand,  and  salute  Milicent  before  they  per- 
mitted themselves  to  talk,  dance,  and  sing. 
Upon  leaving,  the  same  order  was  observed. 
They  went  out  into  the  hall,  donned  their 
hats,  sword-belts,  and  swords,  returned,  sa- 
luted, and  withdrew  in  military  form.  At  this 
time  I  was  a  little  girl  who  played  on  the 
piano  for  grown-up  people  to  dance.  On 
formal  occasions  we  had  military  bands,  but 
for  the  e very-evening  dance  my  playing  did 
well  enough.  When  the  Prussians  were  our 
guests,  one  of  them  always  sat  by  me  while  I 
played.  Baron  von  der  Golz,  since  Admiral 
of  the  German  navy,  was  the  gentleman  who 
was  oftenest  kind  enough  to  turn  over  my 
music.  I  play  now,  for  my  children  to  dance, 
a  Prussian  galop  he  taught  me,  with  some  of 
the  music  I  played  for  those  officers,  and  some 
which  they  used  to  play  when  they  took  my 
place  at  the  piano  that  I  might  have  my  share 
of  the  dancing.  Another  Prussian  officer  of 
whom  I  was  very  fond  was  Count  von  Monts, 
afterward  Admiral  of  the  German  navy,  Von 
der  Golz  succeeding  at  his  death. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  day  my  Prussian 
friends  sailed  away.     From  the  roof  of  our 
5 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

residence  over  the  bank,  there  was  a  good 
view  of  the  harbor  and  river:  Milicent,  Emily 
Conway,  and  a  number  of  girls  who  wanted 
to  see  the  last  of  the  gallant,  handsome  Prus- 
sians went  up  on  the  roof,  and  I  was  permitted 
to  go  with  them.  We  turned  our  spy-glasses 
on  their  ships  as  they  sailed  toward  Hampton 
Roads,  and  there  were  our  friends  on  deck, 
their  glasses  turned  upon  the  housetop  where 
we  stood  in  the  full  glare  of  the  midday  sun. 
Even  I  was  visible  to  them.  Milicent  placed 
me  in  front  of  our  spy-glass,  and  I  looked 
through  and  singled  out  Baron  von  Golz,  to 
whom  I  waved  my  handkerchief  vigorously. 
A  little  snow-storm  fluttered  on  the  deck, 
and  the  baron  not  only  waved,  but  saluted. 
According  to  the  fashion  of  the  time,  young 
ladies  wore  low-necked  dresses  in  the  middle 
of  the  day — never,  however,  at  any  hour,  so 
low  as  ladies  at  the  opera  wear  them  now. 
Milicent  and  her  friends  who  went  to  the 
housetop  were  bare-necked,  and  the  sun  blis- 
tered their  throats  and  shoulders;  and  mother 
had  to  bathe  Milicent  with  buttermilk  all  the 
afternoon  to  make  her  presentable  for  the 
dance  that  night,  which,  by  special  permis- 
6 


Home  Life  in  a  Southern  Harbor 

sion,  Count  von  Monts  attended,  coming  up 
from  Fortress  Monroe  to  escort  Milicent. 
They  made  a  pretty  picture  when  they  danced 
their  last  dance  together.  The  Count  would 
not  permit  their  friendship  to  cease  with  that 
last  dance,  and  a  correspondence  was  long 
kept  up  between  them.  At  parting,  she  gave 
him  her  little  Catholic  prayer-book  with  her 
name  on  the  fly-leaf,  and  years  after,  when 
revisiting  Norfolk,  he  had  that  prayer-book 
and  tried  to  find  her;  but  times  were  changed, 
and  Norfolk  no  more  our  home.  Many  a 
titled  sailor  sought  my  sister's  favor,  but  in 
our  day  Virginia's  daughters,  undazzled  by 
coronets,  were  content  to  wed  Virginia's 
sons. 

The  almost  limitless  hospitality  of  those 
days  made  all  the  sharper  the  distinction  be- 
tween "  open  house  "  and  open  hand.  In  the 
forties,  the  reserve  of  the  American  girl  was 
more  like  that  of  her  English  sister  than  it  is 
at  the  present  day:  Society  did  not  sanction 
the  freedom  which  it  countenances  now.  The 
gentlewoman  of  the  old  South  was  a  past 
mistress  in  the  art  of  tact,  but  had  little 
knowledge  or  practise  in  it  to  further  her  own 

7 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

private  ends.  Its  office,  as  she  understood  it, 
was  to  relieve  painful  situations  not  her  own, 
to  contribute  to  the  comfort  and  pleasure  of 
others.  To  rid  herself  of  a  disagreeable  third 
person  to  secure  a  tete-a-tete  with  a  lover  was 
not  within  its  province.  Lovers  had  to  make 
their  own  opportunities — indeed  it  was  not 
her  part  even  to  conceive  that  they  wanted  to 
make  opportunities.  Taking  all  this  into  con- 
sideration, the  freedom  with  which  Southern 
children  entered  into  the  social  life  must  have 
often  made  them  thorns  in  the  flesh  of  their 
elders.  I  have  often  wondered  since  those 
happy  days  if  my  favorites  among  my  sis- 
ter's visitors  did  not  find  me  a  great  nui- 
sance in  spite  of  the  caresses  they  lavished 
upon  me. 

The  New  Year's  reception  of  that  period 
was  not  an  afternoon  and  evening  affair.  It 
began  in  the  morning  and  lasted  all  day;  it 
meant  pretty  girls  fluttering  in  laces  and  rib- 
bons and  feathers  and  sparkling  with  jewels 
and  smiles;  stately  matrons  who,  however 
beautiful  and  young  they  were,  never  in- 
dulged even  in  the  innocent  coquetry  that 
neither  deceives  a  man  nor  wounds  a  woman 
8 


Home  Life  in  a  Southern  Harbor 

— the  married  belle  was  unknown  to  Virginia; 
and  gallant  men,  young  and  old,  ready  to 
die  for  them  or  live  for  them;  it  meant  the 
good  things  to  eat  for  which  Virginia  is 
famous,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  often  more 
than  enough  of  good  things  to  drink.  I  re- 
member one  of  these  New  Year's  days  when 
the  ardor  of  my  affections  prevented  a  young 
officer  who  had  come  to  bid  us  good-by  from 
exchanging  a  word  with  anybody  unham- 
pered by  my  close  attendance.  I  was  brimful 
of  nine-year-old  love  for  him.  I  proposed  to 
him  and  was  promptly  accepted;  I  made  him 
drink  punch  with  me  dipped  from  the  old 
punch-bowl  that  had  been  presented  to  father 
by  the  military  companies  of  Norfolk,  and  I 
told  him  how  Admiral  Tucker  had  made  the 
presentation  with  flags  flying  and  bands  play- 
ing and  wine  flowing,  and  how  the  admiral 
tried  to  ride  his  horse  up  the  front  steps  into 
the  house,  and  how  the  sober  animal  wisely 
and  firmly  refused  to  perfom  the  feat. 
Through  a  long  day  he  did  not  once  es- 
cape me.  This  young  officer  was  Lieutenant 
John  L.  Worden.  He  was  one  of  the  gallant 
"  boys  in  blue  "  who  made  my  sister's  girl- 
9 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

hood  happy.  A  most  charming  gentleman 
he  was,  and  everybody  in  my  father's  house 
loved  him. 

Another  young  sailor — the  handsomest  of 
them  all,  whom  everybody  in  my  father's 
house  loved  —  was  Captain  Warren.  How 
well  I  remember  that  evening  when  the  or- 
der came  bidding  him  report  at  once  to  his 
ship,  which  was  to  set  forth  on  a  long  cruise 
in  Eastern  waters!  Shall  I  ever  forget  the 
look  in  his  eyes  as  he  turned  them  upon  Mili- 
cent!  How  beautiful  she  was  that  night! 
How  gracious  and  sweet,  how  greatly  to  be 
desired!    And  how  many  desired  her! 

Milicent  had  been  married  several  years 
and  I  was  in  the  raptures  of  my  first  winter  in 
society  when  my  father  died,  and  mother  de- 
cided that  we  should  leave  Norfolk — Norfolk 
where  river  and  bay  and  ocean  had  sung  our 
cradle-songs — and  go  to  Petersburg  to  live. 
In  this  day  of  independent  women  it  sounds 
absurd  to  say  that  it  was  scarcely  considered 
wise  or  delicate  for  women  to  live  without  the 
protection  of  a  male  relative  in  the  house,  and 
to  add  that  as  far  as  possible  they  were 
shielded  from  the  burden  of  business  respon- 
10 


Home  Life  in  a  Southern  Harbor 

sibilities.  Uncle  Henry  considered  it  impera- 
tive that  we  should  be  under  his  care;  he  could 
not  come  to  Norfolk,  so  we  went  to  him. 
We  could  scarcely  have  been  strangers  any- 
where in  Virginia,  and  in  Petersburg  we  had 
many  friends.  The  Lees  and  the  Randolphs, 
the  Pegrams  and  the  Pages,  the  Stringfel- 
lows,  the  Hamiltons,  the  Witherspoons,  the 
Bannisters,  the  Donnans,  the  Dunlops,  and 
a  score  of  others  made  it  easy  to  exercise 
the  genius  for  friendship  which  in  Virginia 
hands  down  that  relation  from  generation  to 
generation. 

It  was  in  Petersburg  that  my  trousseau 
was  made.  Much  of  it  was  the  work  and 
embroidery  of  loving,  light-hearted  girls 
whose  feet  were  set  to  music  and  dancing,  and 
most  of  it  was  worn  by  women  who  trod  in 
stead  fields  red  with  the  blood  of  their  friends 
and  kinsmej?.  During  the  long,  dreary  years 
in  which  the  Northern  ports  were  closed,  and 
the  South  clothed  itself  as  best  it  could,  or 
went  in  rags,  that  trousseau  constituted  my 
sole  outfit,  and  it  reinforced  the  wardrobes 
of  some  comrades  in  war  and  want. 


ii 


CHAPTER   II 

HOW    I    MET    DAN    GREY 

"  Have  you  met  Dan  Grey?  " 

Charlie  Murray  and  I  were  galloping  along 
a  country  road. 

"  I  haven't,  Charlie.  I  met  his  brother 
Dick  in  Norfolk,  and  didn't  like  him  at  all." 

"  Well,  Nell,  you'd  like  Dan — everybody 
does.  I  wonder  you  haven't  met  him.  Dan 
never  fails  to  meet  every  pretty  girl  that 
comes  here." 

I  had  heard  that  before.  Indeed,  I  had 
heard  a  great  deal  about  Dan  Grey  that  made 
me  long  to  get  even  with  him.  Everybody 
had  a  way  of  speaking  as  if  Petersburg  wasn't 
Petersburg  with  Dan  Grey  left  out. 

"  You  ought  to  meet  Dan  Grey,"  Charlie 
repeated. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  I  rapped  out.  "I 
think  I  can  get  along  very  nicely  without 
meeting  Dan  Grey  " — Dan  Grey  seemed  to 

12 


How  I   Met  Dan  Grey 

be  getting  along  very  nicely  without  meeting 
me — "  I  know  as  many  nice  men  now  as  I 
have  time  to  see." 

So  I  dismissed  Dan,  whipped  up  my  horse, 
and  raced  Charlie  along  the  old  Jerusalem 
Plank  Road — that  historic  thoroughfare  by 
which  the  Union  troops  first  threatened  Pe- 
tersburg, and  near  which  Fort  Hell  and  Fort 
Damnation  are  still  visible.  We  ran  our 
horses  past  the  old  brick  church,  built  of 
bricks  brought  from  England  to  erect  a  place 
of  worship  for  the  aristocratic  colonists,  past 
the  quiet  graves  in  Blandford;  and  turning 
our  horses  into  Washington  Street,  slackened 
their  pace  and,  chatting  merrily  the  while, 
rode  slowly  into  the  city  toward  the  golden 
sunset.  A  few  years  later  I  was  to  run  along 
this  street  in  abject  terror  from  bursting^ 
shells. 

"  You  ought  to  meet  Dan  Grey." 

It   came  from   George  Van   B this 

time.     George  was  the  poet  laureate  of  our 

set.    Afterward  he  was  Colonel  Van  B , 

and  as  gallant  a  soldier  as  ever  faced  shot 
and  shell.    I  had  been  playing  an  accompani- 
ment for  him;  he  was  singing  a  popular  ditty 
13 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

of  the  day,  "  Sweet  Nellie  is  by  my  Side  ";  I 
wheeled  around  on  the  piano-stool  and  faced 
him. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  that  man?  He 
must  be  a  curiosity?  " 

"  He  is  just  the  nicest  fellow  in  town," 
George  asserted  with  mingled  resentment  and 
amusement. 

"  He  must  be  something  extraordinary. 
One  would  think  there  was  just  one  man  in 
town  and  that  his  name  was  Dan  Grey." 

Before  the  week  was  out  I  heard  it  again. 
This  time  it  was  Willie.  He  spoke  oracularly, 
and  as  if  he  were  broaching  an  original  idea. 
Page,  the  best  dancer  in  our  set,  repeated 
the  recommendation,  looking  as  if  I  were 
quite  out  of  the  swim  in  not  knowing  Dan 

Grey.     (If  Governor reads  this  chapter, 

will  he  please  overlook  the  familiar  use  of  his 
name?  Boys  and  girls  who  have  played 
mumble-peg  together  and  snowballed  each 
other,  do  not  attach  handles  to  each  other's 
names  until  they  are  more  thoroughly  grown 
up  than  we  were  then.) 

"  I  am  sure  it  must  be  my  duty  to  meet 
Dan  Grey,"  I  said  gravely.  "  I  am  continu- 
14 


How  I  Met  Dan  Grey 

ally  being  told  that  I  '  ought  to  meet  Dan 
Grey '  just  as  I  might  be  told  that  I  ought 
to  go  to  church." 

"Dan  isn't  a  bit  like  a  church,  Nell," 
laughed  Willie.  "  But  he  is  a  splendid  fellow, 
generous  to  a  fault — and  then,  you  know, 
Dan  is  the  handsomest  man  in  town." 

"  Oh,  no! "  I  retorted,  "  I  left  the  hand- 
somest man  in  town  in  Norfolk." 

I  can't  begin  to  tell  how  terribly  tired  I 
got  of  "  You  ought  to  meet  Dan  Grey," 
"  Haven't  you  met  Dan  Grey?  "  Evidently 
Dan  Grey  was  in  no  hurry  to  meet  me.  I 
knew  that  he  was  the  toast  of  our  set  and  that 
he  ignored  me  as  completely  as  if  I  were  not 
in  it — and  I  had  never  been  ignored  before.  I 
also  knew,  without  being  continually  told, 
that  he  was  a  broad-shouldered,  magnificent- 
looking  fellow,  fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  and 
"  the  handsomest  man  in  town."  My  girl 
friends  talked  about  him  almost  as  much  as 
the  men  did.  And  I  did  not  even  know  the 
lion !  I  took  great  pains  not  to  want  to  know 
him.  I  impressed  it  upon  Willie  and  Charlie 
and  George  and  the  rest  that  they  were  not  to 
bring  Dan  Grey  to  see  me. 
15 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Why,  what  will  we  say  if  he  asks  us  to 
bring  him?  You  are  unreasonable,  Nell. 
How  did  you  ever  pick  up  such  a  prejudice 
against  Dan?  Nobody  can  object  to  Dan 
Grey.  If  he  asks  any  of  us  to  bring  him,  I 
don't  know  what  we  can  do." 

"  Oh,  of  course  you  can't  be  rude.  If  you 
are  asked  to  bring  him,  you  will  have  to  do 
as  you  are  asked,  but  I  don't  think  you  will  be 
asked.  I'm  sure  I  hope  you  won't,  for  I  have 
heard  of  Dan  Grey  until  I  am  sick  of  the  very 
name." 

Meanwhile  I  resolved  privately  if  I  ever 
did  lay  my  hands  on  Dan  Grey  I  would  wreak 
a  full  vengeance.  He  says  that  I  have 
done  it. 

A  Catholic  fair  was  to  be  held  in  Peters- 
burg, but  as  dearly  as  we  loved  Father  Mul- 
vey  (all  Petersburg  loved  him),  and  as  much 
as  we  longed  to  do  everything  possible  for  our 
poor  little  Church  of  St.  Joseph,  we  could  not 
go  to  the  fair  rooms  and  sell  things  and  make 
merry.  We  were  in  deep  mourning;  mother 
said  that  our  going  was  out  of  the  question. 
Then  her  old  friend,  Mrs.  Winton,  came  out 
to  persuade  and  convince. 
16 


How  I  Met  Dan  Grey 

"  I  really  can  not  let  the  girls  go,"  mother 
protested.  "  They  can  make  fancy  articles 
and  send  them  to  the  fair,  or  do  any  home 
work  that  you  can  put  them  to;  we  are  willing 
to  help  just  as  much  as  we  can.  I  will  send 
pickled  oysters  and  shrimp  salad  after  my 
Norfolk  recipes,  and  cake  and  cream  and  any- 
thing you  like  that  I  can  make." 

"  We  want  the  oysters  and  the  salad  and 
the  cake  and  everything  else  you  choose  to 
send,  but  above  all  things  we  want  the  girls. 
I  didn't  come  here  for  your  pickled  oysters 
and  shrimp  salad,  if  they  are  the  best  I  ever 
tasted.  I  want  Milicent  and  Nell — I  want 
Nell  for  my  booth  and  Milicent  for  Mrs. 
Lynn's.  Mrs.  Lynn  has  set  her  heart  on 
Milicent — but,  there!  Mrs.  Lynn  may  do  her 
own  begging.    Do  let  me  have  Nell." 

"  My  dear,  I  don't  see  how  I  can." 

"  Oh,  you  must!  We  really  need  them. 
You  know  how  few  girls  there  are  in  our  little 
congregation." 

Mother  was  too  good  a  Catholic  not  to 
yield — Milicent  and  I  were  given  over  to  the 
cause  of  St.  Joseph's. 

"  But  they  are  to  work,  not  to  amuse 
17 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

themselves,"  she  stipulated.  "  They  are  not 
to  promenade — just  to  stand  behind  tables 
and  sell  things." 

"Just  send  them,"  pleaded  Mrs.  Winton. 
"  I'll  promise  not  to  let  them  enjoy  them- 
selves. I'll  keep  Nell  busy,  and  Mrs.  Lynn 
will  do  her  duty  by  Milicent." 

But  work  is  fun  when  you  are  young 
enough,  and  there  was  plenty  of  both  in  get- 
ting the  booths  ready.  The  old  Library  Hall 
on  Bollingbrook  Street  was  a  gay  and  busy 
scene  for  several  days  before  it  was  formally 
opened  to  the  public  who  came  to  spend 
money  and  make  merry. 

On  one  never-forgotten  morning  the  hall 
was  filled  with  matrons  and  maidens  weaving 
festoons  of  pine-beard,  running  cedar,  and 
ivy.  I  had  purposely  donned  my  worst  dress, 
and  was  sitting  on  the  floor  Turkish  fashion, 
with  evergreens  heaped  around  me,  when  I 
saw  a  party  of  gentlemen  entering  the  hall. 

I  tried  to  sink  out  of  sight,  but  they  saw 
me,  demolished  my  barricade,  and  began  to 
tease  me.  The  quartet  were  Charlie  Mur- 
ray, George  Van  B ,  Willie,  and  Page. 

Behind  them  came  a  fifth  gentleman,  and 
18 


How  I  Met  Dan  Grey 

before  this  fifth  gentleman  and  I  knew  what 
was  happening  we  were  being  presented  to 
each  other.  And  that  is  how  I  met  Dan  Grey 
— sitting  on  the  floor  in  my  shabbiest  dress 
and  half  hidden  by  evergreens.  I  soon  had 
the  whole  party  hard  at  work  festooning  the 
hall,  and  what  a  good,  if  late,  laborer,  Dan 
Grey  made  in  my  vineyard! 

"  You  see  how  useful  I  am,"  he  said — he 
was  standing  on  a  box  and  I  was  handing  up 
wreaths  of  cedar  which  he  was  arranging  on 
the  wall.  "  Now,  why  didn't  you  let  me  come 
to  see  you?  " 

"  Me?  "  I  asked  in  utter  bewilderment. 

"Yes,  'me'!" 

"  Why,  I  never  had  a  thing  to  do  with 
your  not  coming  to  see  me." 

He  gave  George,  Charlie,  and  Willie  a 
withering  look. 

"  I  reckon  somebody  else  didn't  want 
me  to." 

The  boys  looked  dumfounded. 

"  I  heard,"  said  Dan  from  his  box,  "  that 

you  didn't  want  me  to  come  to  see  you,  that 

you  had  an  unaccountable  prejudice  against 

me  because  you  didn't  like  Dick,  that  you 

19 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

asked  all  your  friends  by  no  means  to  bring 
me  to  see  you." 

I  was  as  mad  as  I  could  be  with  George, 
Willie,  and  Charlie. 

"  Why,"  I  said,  "  you  are  not  your  brother 
Dick.    And  then,  I  don't  dislike  Dick  at  all." 

Again  the  trio  looked  at  me  as  if  they 
doubted  the  evidence  of  their  senses. 

"  Nell,  what  did  you  tell  such  a  story 
for?"  George  asked  me  privately  later. 

"  Why,  I  didn't  tell  any  story  at  all,"  I 
declared.  "  He  isn't  his  brother  Dick,  is  he? 
And  I  don't  dislike  Dick  now." 

The  night  of  the  fair  I  wore  a  black  bom- 
bazine, cut  low  in  the  neck  and  with  long 
angel  sleeves  falling  away  from  my  arms 
above  the  elbow  to  the  hem  of  my  dress,  and 
around  my  neck  a  band  of  black  velvet  with 
a  black  onyx  cross.  I  sat  or  stood  behind 
Mrs.  Winton's  booth,  and  Mr.  Grey  haunted 
the  booth  all  the  evening,  and  bought  quan- 
tities of  things  he  had  no  use  for. 

After  the  fair  he  saw  me  or  reminded  me 

of   his   existence   in    some    way   every    day. 

Mother  took  me,  about  this  time,  on  a  visit  to 

some  cousins  in  Birdville,  and  every  day  Mr. 

20 


How  I  Met  Dan  Grey 

Grey  rode  out  on  Dare  Devil,  the  horse  that 
he  was  to  ride  into  his  first  fight.  There  was 
another  fair.  I  went  in  from  Birdville  to  help, 
and  had  the  same  coterie  of  assistants.  "  Ben 
Bolt "  was  a  great  favorite  then.  It  was  a 
new  song  and  divided  honors  with  "  Sweet 
Nellie  is  by  my  Side."  My  assistants  used 
to  sit  on  a  goods  box  that  was  later  to  be  con- 
verted into  an  ornamental  stand,  and  sing, 
"  O  don't  you  Remember  Sweet  Alice,  Ben 
Bolt?  " 

Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short — as  Dan 
and  I  did — we  were  married  in  exactly  four 
months  and  a  half  from  the  day  on  which  he 
was  introduced  to  me  as  I  sat  cross-legged 
among  the  evergreens;  and  when  Willie  and 
George  and  Charlie  came  up  to  congratulate 
us,  every  wretch  of  them  said,  "  Didn't  I  tell 
you  you  ought  to  meet  Dan  Grey?  " 


21 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   FIRST   DAYS   OF  THE   CONFEDERACY 

Soon  after  my  marriage  my  brother-in- 
law  moved  to  Baltimore,  and  my  mother  de- 
cided to  go  with  Milicent  and  her  little  boy. 
I  had  never  really  been  separated  from  them 
before;  I  was  only  seventeen,  a  spoiled  child, 
but  though  I  loved  them  dearly,  after  the  first 
I  scarcely  missed  them.  I  had  my  husband, 
and  ah!  how  happy  we  were — how  glad  we 
both  were  that  I  had  met  Dan  Grey! 

We  did  not  go  to  housekeeping  at  once. 
In  the  first  place,  I  did  not  know  anything 
about  housekeeping  and  I  didn't  want  Dan  to 
find  it  out ;  in  the  second  place,  we  wanted  to 
look  around  before  we  settled  upon  a  house; 
and  in  the  third,  and  what  was  to  me  the 
smallest  place,  the  country  was  in  a  very  un- 
settled condition. 

The  question  of  State's  rights  and  seces- 
sion  was  being   pressed   home   to   Virginia. 

22 


The  First  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

The  correspondence  between  the  commission 
at  Washington  and  Mr.  Seward  was  de- 
spatched to  Richmond,  and  Richmond  is  but 
twenty  miles  from  Petersburg.  There  were 
mutterings  that  each  day  grew  louder,  signs 
and  portents  that  we  refused  to  believe. 
Local  militia  were  organizing  and  drilling — 
getting  ready  to  answer  the  call  should  it 
come.  Not  that  the  people  seriously  thought 
that  it  would  come.  They  believed,  as  they 
hoped,  that  something  would  be  done  to  pre- 
vent war;  that  statesmen,  North  and  South, 
would  combine  to  save  the  Union;  that,  at 
any  rate,  we  should  be  saved  from  bloodshed. 
As  for  those  others  who  prophesied  and 
prayed  for  it,  who  wanted  the  vials  of  God's 
wrath  uncorked,  they  got  what  they  wanted. 
Their  prayers  were  answered;  the  land  was 
drenched  in  blood.  But  for  the  most  of  us — 
the  Virginians  whom  I  knew — we  did  not, 
we  would  not  believe  that  brothers  could  war 
with  brothers. 

Then  something  happened  that  drove  the 
truth  home  to  our  hearts.    The  guns  of  Sum- 
ter spoke — war  was  upon  us.     But  not  for 
long;    the    differences    would    be    adjusted. 
3  23 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Sumter  fell,  Virginia  seceded.  Still  we  be- 
fooled ourselves.  There  would  be  a  brief 
campaign,  victory,  and  peace.  North  and 
South,  we  looked  for  anything  but  what  came 
— those  four  long  years  of  bloody  agony; 
North  and  South  were  each  sure  of  victory. 
In  Virginia,  where  the  courage  and  endur- 
ance of  starving  men  were  to  stand  the  test 
of  weary  months  and  years,  we  scoffed  at  the 
idea  that  there  would  be  any  real  fighting. 
If  there  should  be,  for  Virginia  who  had  never 
known  the  shadow  of  defeat,  defeat  was  im- 
possible. 

One  day  my  brother-in-law,  Dick,  walked 
in. 

"  I've  come  to  tell  you  good-by,  Nell — 
I'm  off  to-morrow.'* 

"Where?" 

"  Norfolk." 

"  What  for?  " 

"  Infantry  ordered  there.  The  Rifles  go 
down  to-night,  the  Grays  to-morrow." 

I  looked  serious,  and  Dick  laughed. 

"  Don't  bother,  Nell,  we'll  be  back  in  a 
few  days.    There  won't  be  any  fighting." 

Dick  was  a  good-looking  fellow,  and  I 
24 


The  First  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

liked  him  much  better  than  I  had  once  said  I 
did.  He  was  the  dandy  of  the  family,  and 
on  the  present  occasion  was  glorious  in  a 
new  uniform. 

"  Dick,"  I  said,  "  please  don't  get  in  a 
fight  and  get  shot." 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,  Nell!  There  won't 
be  any  fighting.  We're  going  to  protect 
Norfolk,  you  know.  Just  going  there  to  be 
on  the  spot  if  we're  needed,  I  suppose." 

He  went  away  laughing,  but  I  wasn't  con- 
vinced. When  Dan  came,  I  was  almost  too 
weak  with  fear  to  ask  the  question  that  was 
on  my  tongue. 

"  Is  Norfolk  to  be  bombarded?  " 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  he  spoke  cheerily. 
"  The  boys  will  be  back  in  a  few  days." 

Oh,  I  hoped  they  would!  Many  of  my 
friends  were  among  "  the  boys." 

"  Do — do  you  think  your  company  will 
have  to  go?  " 

I  was  only  seventeen;  mother  and  Mili- 
cent  were  away;  my  young  husband  was  my 
life. 

"  The  cavalry  have  not  been  ordered  out," 
he  said.  "  I  don't  think  we  will  be  sent  for. 
25 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Cheer  up,  Nell!  The  boys  will  be  back  in  a 
few  days,  and  won't  we  have  a  high  old  time 
welcoming  them  home!" 

Dick  had  broken  it  to  me  gently.  All 
the  infantry  went  down  together.  Soon  after 
my  husband  came  in,  looking  very  pale  and 
quiet. 

"  Dan,"  I  said,  "  I  know  what  it  is." 

"  The  cavalry  are  ordered  to  Norfolk," 
he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  It's  only  a  few 
days'  parting,  little  wife.  I  don't  think 
there  will  be  any  fighting.  Be  brave,  my 
darling." 

I  had  thrown  myself  into  his  arms  with  a 
great  cry. 

"  I  can't,  Dan!    I  can't  let  you  go!  " 

He  did  not  speak.  He  only  held  me  close 
to  his  breast. 

"  Mother  and  Milicent  are  gone,"  I  cried, 
"  and  I  can't  let  you  leave  me  to  go  and  be 
killed!  I  couldn't  let  you  go  if  they  were 
here." 

There  was  silence  for  a  little  while,  then 
he  said: 

"  I  belong  to  you,  little  wife — I  leave  it  to 
you  what  I  shall  do.  Shall  I  stay  behind,  a 
26 


The  First  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

traitor  and  a  coward?    Or  shall  I  go  with  my 
company  and  do  my  duty?  " 

.  I  couldn't  speak  for  tears.    I  felt  how  hard 
his  heart  beat  against  mine. 

"  Poor  wife!  "  he  said,  "  poor  little  child! " 

When  I  spoke,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  tearing 
my  heart  out  by  the  roots. 

"  I — I — must — let — you — go!  " 

"  That  is  my  own  brave  girl.  Never  mind, 
Nell,  I  will  make  you  proud  of  your  soldier! " 

"Oh,  Dan!  Dan!"  I  sobbed,  "I  don't 
want  to  be  proud  of  you!  I  just  don't  want 
you  to  get  hurt!  I  don't  want  you  to  go  if 
I  could  help  it — but  I  can't!  I  don't  want 
fame  or  glory !     I  want  you !  " 

He  smoothed  my  hair  with  slow  touches, 
and  was  silent.  Then  he  spoke  again,  trying 
to  comfort  me  with  those  false  hopes  all 
fed  on. 

"  I  still  doubt  if  there  will  be  any  fighting. 

But  if  there  is,  I  must  be  in  it.    I  can't  be  a 

coward.     There!   there!     Nellie,   don't   cry! 

I  hope  for  peace.    The  North  and  the  South 

both  want  peace.     You  will  laugh  at  all  of 

this,  Nell,  when  we  come  back  from  Norfolk 

without  striking  a  blow; !  " 
27 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Dan,  let  me  go  with  you." 

"  Dear,  I  can't.  How  could  you  travel 
around,  with  only  a  knapsack,  like  a  soldier?  " 

"  Try  me.    I  am  to  be  a  soldier's  wife." 

I  was  swallowing  my  sobs,  sniffling,  blow- 
ing my  nose,  and  trying  to  look  brave  all  at 
once.  Instead  of  looking  brave,  I  must  have 
looked  very  comical,  for  Dan  burst  out  laugh- 
ing. The  next  moment  we  were  silent  again. 
The  chimes  of  St.  Paul's  rang  out  upon  the 
air.  It  was  neither  Sabbath  nor  saint's  day. 
We  knew  what  the  bells  were  ringing  for.  Not 
only  St.  Paul's  chimes,  but  the  bells  of  all 
the  churches  had  become  familiar  signals  call- 
ing us  to  labor  as  sacred  as  worship.  Sewing 
machines  had  been  carried  into  the  churches, 
and  the  sacred  buildings  had  become  depots 
for  bolts  of  cloth,  linen,  and  flannel.  Nothing 
could  be  heard  in  them  for  days  but  the  click 
of  machines,  the  tearing  of  cloth,  the  cease- 
less murmur  of  voices  questioning,  and  voices 
directing  the  work.  Old  and  young  were 
busy.  Some  were  tearing  flannel  into  lengths 
for  shirts  and  cutting  out  havelocks  and  knap- 
sacks. And  some  were  tearing  linen  into 
strips  and  rolling  it  for  bandages  ready  to  the 
28 


The  First  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

surgeon's  hand.  Others  were  picking  linen 
into  balls  of  lint. 

"  I  must  go  make  you  some  clothes,"  I 
said,  getting  up  from  Dan's  knee. 

"  But  I  have  plenty,"  he  said. 

"  It  doesn't  matter.  I  must  make  you 
some  more — like  the  others." 

Before  the  war  was  over  I  had  learned  to 
make  clothes  out  of  next  to  nothing,  but  that 
morning,  except  for  fancy  work,  I  had  never 
sewed  a  stitch  in  my  life.  I  could  embroider 
anything  from  an  altar  cloth  to  an  initial  in 
the  corner  of  a  handkerchief,  but  to  make  a 
flannel  shirt  was  beyond  my  comprehension. 
Make  it,  however,  I  could  and  would.  I 
never  hinted  to  Dan  that  I  didn't  know  how, 
for  I  was  determined  that  nobody  but  me 
should  make  his  army  shirts — I  must  sew 
them  with  my  own  fingers.  I  went  down 
town  and  bought  the  finest,  softest  flannel  I 
could  find.  Then  I  was  at  my  wits'  ends.  I 
looked  at  the  flannel  and  I  looked  at  the 
scissors.  Time  was  flying.  I  picked  up 
my  flannel  and  ran  to  consult  my  neigh- 
bor, Mrs.  Cuthbert.  She  showed  me  how 
to  cut  and  fashion  my  shirts,  and  I  made 
29 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

them  beautifully,  feather-stitching  all  the 
seams. 

Next  day  came  and  Dan  made  me  buckle 
on  his  sword. 

"  If  you  stay  long  in  Norfolk  may  I 
come? "  I  sobbed. 

Poor  Dan  didn't  know  what  to  say. 

"  I'm  a  soldier's  wife,"  I  said  with  a 
mighty  effort  to  look  it.  "  I  can  travel  with 
a  knapsack — and,"  with  a  sob,  "  I  can — keep 
— from  crying." 

"  I'm  going  to  have  you  with  me  if  pos- 
sible. There!  little  wife,  don't  cry,  or  you'll 
make  a  fool  of  me.  Be  brave,  Nell.  That's 
it!    I'm  proud  of  you." 

But  there  was  a  tremor  in  his  voice  all  the 
same.  He  put  me  gently  away  from  him  and 
went  out,  and  I  lay  down  on  the  sofa  and  cried 
as  if  my  heart  would  break.  But  not  for  long. 
Captain  Jeter's  wife  came  for  me;  her  eyes 
were  red  with  weeping,  but  she  was  trying  to 
smile.  We  were  to  go  to  the  public  leave- 
taking — there  would  be  time  enough  for  tears 
afterward.  Everybody  was  on  the  streets  to 
see  the  troops  go  off,  and  I  took  my  stand 
with  the  others  and  watched  as  the  cavalry 
30 


The  First  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

rode  past  us.  We  kept  our  handkerchiefs 
waving  all  the  time  our  friends  were  riding  by, 
and  when  we  saw  our  husbands  and  brothers 
we  tried  to  cheer,  but  our  voices  were  husky. 
The  last  thing  I  saw  of  my  husband  he  was 
wringing  the  hand  of  an  old  friend  who  was 
not  going,  tears  were  streaming  down  his 
cheeks  and  he  was  saying,  "  For  God's  sake, 
take  care  of  my  wife." 

They  were  gone,  all  gone,  infantry  and  cav- 
alry, the  flower  of  the  city.  But  they  would 
be  back  in  a  few  days,  of  that  we  were  sure — 
and  some  of  them  never  came  back  again. 

I  was  in  a  city  of  mourning  and  dread,  but 
.my  own  suspense  measured  by  days  was  not 
long,  though  it  seemed  an  age  to  me  then.  A 
week  had  not  passed  when  I  got  a  telegram 
from  Dan: 

"  Come  to  Norfolk.  We  are  camped  near 
there." 

It  was  near  train  time  when  I  got  it.  I 
snatched  up  my  satchel,  put  in  a  comb  and 
brush  and  tooth-brush — not  even  an  extra 
handkerchief — and  almost  ran  to  the  depot.  I 
could  not  have  carried  all  my  clothes,  I  know, 
3i 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

for  part  of  them  were  with  the  laundress,  and 
packing  a  trunk  would  have  taken  time;  but 
why  on  earth  I  did  not  put  a  few  more  articles 
into  my  satchel  I  can  not  tell.  It  is  a  matter 
of  history,  however,  that  I  only  took  those  I 
have  named.  The  first  thing  Dan  did  was  to 
get  me  some  handkerchiefs. 

"  Why,  Nell,"  he  said,  "  you  are  taking 
this  thing  of  being  a  soldier's  wife  too  seri- 
ously." 

It  was  delightful  to  be  in  my  old  home 
once  more.  Friends  and  kindred  crowded 
around  me,  the  river  and  bay  and  ocean  sang 
my  old  cradle-songs  to  me  again,  and,  above 
all,  Dan  was  near  and  came  in  from  camp  as 
often  as  he  could.  Then  he  was  ordered  away 
to  Suffolk,  which  is  twenty  miles  from  Nor- 
folk, and  there,  of  course,  he  could  not  ride 
in  to  see  me.  But  that  was  not  so  bad  as  it 
might  have  been.  I  could  hear  from  him 
regularly,  he  had  not  yet  been  in  any  actual 
engagement,  my  fears  were  subsiding,  or  I 
was  getting  accustomed  to  them.  I  had,  of 
course,  telegraphed  to  Petersburg  for  my 
baggage  and  had  made  myself  as  comfortable 
as  possible.  An  old  uncle  had  taken  it  into 
32 


The  First  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

his  head  to  become  quite  fond  of  me,  and  al- 
together I  was  very  far  from  unhappy.  This 
uncle  was  eccentric  and  had  eccentric  ways 
of  comforting  me  when  I  had  the  blues. 

"  Why,  Nellie,  my  dear,"  he  used  to  say, 
"  you  ought  to  be  playing  dolls,  and  here  you 
are  a  wife,  and  if  Dan  gets  killed  you  will  be 
a  widow." 

On  the  heels  of  which  cheerful  observa- 
tion this  despatch  came  from  Suffolk: 

"  Come  by  next  train.    Dan  slightly  hurt. 

"  Jack." 

When  I  got  to  Suffolk  four  of  the  com- 
pany met  me. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  Miss  Nell,"  said  the 
great  fellows,  sympathy  and  desire  to  cheer 
me  blending  in  their  eyes.  "  Dan  will  pull 
through  all  right." 

Then  Jack  Carrington  took  me  aside  and 
explained  as  gently  and  tenderly  as  if  he  had 
been  my  brother: 

"  It  happened  yesterday,  Miss  Nell,  but 
we  wouldn't  let  you  know  because  there  was 
no  way  for  you  to  get  here  then.  We  thought 
33 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

it  wouldn't  be  so  hard  on  you  if  we  waited 
and  sent  the  telegram  just  before  train  time. 
Your  uncle  got  one  before  you  did,  but  we 
told  him  not  to  tell  you  till  just  before  train 
time,  and  he  wired  us  back  to  tell  you  our- 
selves, that  he  couldn't  tell  you.  Dan  is  get- 
ting all  right  now — he'll  soon  get  well,  Miss 
Nell,  indeed  he  will.  But  the  doctor  said  I 
must  warn  you — Miss  Nell,  you  must  be 
brave,  you  see — or  I  can't  tell  you  at  all.  The 
doctor  said  I  mustn't  let  you  go  in  there  un- 
less you  were  perfectly  calm.  The  wound  is 
nothing  at  all,  Miss  Nell." 

Poor  Jack  was  almost  as  unnerved  as  I 
was.  He  mopped  my  face  with  a  wet  hand- 
kerchief, and  made  somebody  bring  me  some 
brandy. 

But  the  words  ringing  in  my  head,  "  A 
soldier's  wife,"  pulled  me  together  more  than 
the  brandy,  and  I  made  Jack  go  on. 

"  It's  nothing  but  his  arm.  We  were  out 
on  vidette  duty  yesterday  and  we  got  shot 
into.  You  see,  Miss  Nell,  you  must  be  brave 
or  I  can't  tell  you!  " 

I  pulled  myself  together  again  and  insisted 
that  I  was  brave. 

34 


The  First  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

"You  don't  look  like  it,  Miss  Nell.     I 
declare  you  don't." 

"  But  I  am.    See  now." 

Jack  didn't  seem  to  see,  but  he  went  on, 
looking  scared  himself  all  the  time. 

"  The  real  trouble  was  Dare  Devil.  You 
see,  after  Dan's  arm  got  hurt — I  wish  it  had 
been  me  or  George  who  had  caught  that  shot, 
but,  hang  the  luck!  it  was  Dan.  You  know 
Dare  Devil's  old  trick — catching  the  bit  in  his 
teeth.  Well,  he  did  that  and  ran  away.  Dan 
held  on  with  his  good  arm  until  that  d — d 
horse  (excuse  me,  Miss  Nell!)  wheeled  sud- 
denly and  dashed  into  the  woods.  The  limbs 
of  the  trees  dragged  Dan  out  of  his  saddle, 
and  his  foot  caught  in  the  stirrup  and  Dare 
Devil  dragged  him  (take  some  brandy,  Miss 
Nell)  until  the  strap  broke.  We  picked  Dan 
up  insensible;  he  was  delirious  all  night,  and 
we  thought  for  a  time  that  he  was  done  for, 
but,  thank  God!  he's  all  right  now.  I  hate  to 
tell  you,  Miss  Nell,  but — you'll  see  how  his 
head  is — and  the  doctor  said  we  mustn't  let 
you  go  in  if  you  couldn't  be  calm." 

"  I  understand,"  I  said,  "  I  will  be  very 

careful " 

35 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

And  to  prove  how  careful  I  could  be,  I 
broke  down  crying. 

They  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  me, 
poor  fellows.  They  begged  me  not  to  cry, 
and  then  they  said  crying  would  do  me  good, 
and  I  had  four  pairs  of  broad  shoulders  to  cry 
on.  They  were  all  as  gentle  and  pitiful  with 
me  as  a  mother  is  with  a  baby.  One  of  them 
got  out  his  nice  fresh  handkerchief  and  wiped 
my  eyes  with  it.  I  had  come  off  the  second 
time  without  a  change  of  handkerchiefs,  and 
this  time  without  even  a  tooth-brush.  When 
I  had  cried  my  trouble  out  and  was  quite 
calm,  I  told  them  I  was  ready  to  go  to  my 
husband.  They  took  me  to  the  door  and  I 
went  in  quietly,  and  seeing  that  he  was 
awake,  bent  over  him. 

"  I  am  here,  Dan,"  I  said  smiling. 

He  tried  to  smile  back. 

"  Take  my  head  in  your  hands,  Nell,"  he 
whispered,  "  and  turn  it  so  I  can  kiss  you." 

I  laid  my  hands  softly  and  firmly  on  each 
side  of  his  head  and  turned  it  on  the  pillow. 
As  I  did  so,  a  quantity  of  sand  fell  away. 

I  don't  know  whether  his  head  had  been 
properly  dressed  or  not,  but  I  know  that  for 
36 


The  First  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

a  number  of  days  the  sand  fell  away  from  it 
whenever  I  took  it  into  my  hands  to  turn  it. 

"  After  I  fell,"  he  told  me,  when  he  was 
allowed  to  talk,  "  my  head  was  in  the  dirt,  of 
course,  and  it  was  beat  first  against  one  tree 
and  then  against  another.  When  I  felt  my 
senses  leaving  me,  I  clasped  my  arms  tight 
around  my  head.  I  don't  know  how  I  man- 
aged it,  but  I  got  hold  of  my  crippled  arm 
with  my  good  one,  and  when  I  was  picked  up 
my  arms  were  locked  in  some  way  about  my 
head.    That  is  all  that  saved  me." 

I  took  the  law  into  my  own  hands.  Be- 
fore Dan  got  well  Dare  Devil  had  been  shot. 


37 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE   REALITIES   OF   WAR 

When  Dan  recovered  I  returned  to  Nor- 
folk, and  there  I  stayed  for  some  time,  getting 
letters  from  him,  taking  care  of  uncle  and 
developing  a  genius  for  housekeeping.  One 
day  I  was  out  shopping  when  I  saw  everybody 
running  toward  the  quay.  I  turned  and  went 
with  the  crowd.  We  saw  the  Merrimac  swing 
out  of  the  harbor — or  did  she  crawl?  A 
curious  looking  craft  she  was,  that  first  of  our 
ironclads,  ugly  and  ominous. 

She  had  not  been  gone  many  hours  when 
the  sound  of  guns  came  over  the  water  fol- 
lowed by  silence,  terrible  silence,  that  lasted 
until  after  the  lamps  were  lit.  Suddenly  there 
was  tumultuous  cheering  from  the  quay. 
The  Merrimac  had  come  home  after  destroy- 
ing the  Cumberland  and  the  Congress. 

"Well  for  the  Congress!"  we  said.  Her 
commander  had  eaten  and  drunk  of  Norfolk's 
38 


The  Realities  of  War 

hospitality,  and  then  had  turned  his  guns 
upon  her — upon  a  city  full  of  his  friends. 
Bravely  done,  O  Merrimac!  But  that  night 
I  cried  myself  to  sleep.  Under  the  sullen 
waters  of  Hampton  Roads  slept  brave  men 
and  true,  to  whom  Stars  and  Stripes  and 
Southern  Cross  alike  meant  nothing  now. 
The  commander  of  the  Congress  was  among 
the  dead,  and  he  had  been  my  friend — I  had 
danced  with  him  in  my  father's  house.  Next 
day,  the  Monitor  met  the  Merrimac  and 
turned  the  tide  of  victory  against  us.  Her 
commander  was  John  L.  Worden,  who  had 
been  our  guest  beloved. 

During  all  this  time  I  had  been  separated 
from  my  husband.  He  had  been  detailed  to 
make  a  survey  of  Pig  Point  and  the  sur- 
rounding country,  and  it  was  not  until  he 
reached  Smithfield  that  he  sent  for  me.  We 
were  beginning  now  to  realize  that  war  was 
upon  us  in  earnest.  There  was  the  retreat 
from  Yorktown;  Norfolk  was  evacuated. 
Troops  were  moving.  Everything  was  bustle 
and  confusion.  My  husband  went  off  with 
his  command,  the  order  for  departure  so  sud- 
den that  he  had  not  time  to  plan  for  me. 
4  39 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

As  Northern  troops  began  to  occupy  the 
country,  fearing  that  I  would  be  left  in  the 
enemy's  lines  and  so  cut  off  from  getting  to 
him,  I  took  the  matter  into  my  own  hands 
and  went  in  a  covered  wagon  to  Zuni,  twenty 
miles  distant,  where  I  had  heard  that  his  com- 
mand was  encamped  for  a  few  days.  After  a 
rough  ride  I  got  there  only  to  find  that  my 
husband  had  started  off  to  Smithfield  for  me. 
We  had  passed  each  other  on  the  road,  each 
in  a  covered  wagon.  There  was  nothing  to 
do  except  to  wait  his  return  that  night. 

As  my  husband's  command  had  been  or- 
dered to  join  the  troops  at  Seven  Pines,  I 
took  the  train  for  Richmond  the  next  day, 
stopped  a  few  hours,  and  then  went  to  Peters- 
burg. When  I  got  there  the  Battle  of  Seven 
Pines  was  on.  For  two  days  it  raged — 
for  two  days  the  booming  of  the  cannon 
sounded  in  our  ears  and  thundered  at  our 
hearts.  Friends  gathered  at  each  other's 
houses  and  looked  into  each  other's  faces  and 
held  each  other's  hands,  and  listened  for  news 
from  the  field.  And  the  sullen  boom  of  the 
cannon  broke  in  upon  us,  and  we  would  start 
and  shiver  as  if  it  had  shot  us,  and  sometimes 
40 


The  Realities  of  War 

the  tears  would  come.  But  the  bravest  of  us 
got  so  we  could  not  weep.  We  only  sat  in 
silence  or  spoke  in  low  voices  to  each  other 
and  rolled  bandages  and  picked  linen  into  lint. 
And  in  those  two  days  it  seemed  as  if  we  for- 
got how  to  smile. 

Telegrams  began  to  come;  a  woman 
would  drop  limp  and  white  into  the  arms  of 
a  friend — her  husband  was  shot.  Another 
would  sit  with  her  hand  on  her  heart  in 
pallid  silence  until  her  friends,  crowding 
around  her,  spoke  to  her,  tried  to  arouse  her, 
and  then  she  would  break  into  a  cry: 

"  O  my  son!  my  son!  " 

There  were  some  who  could  never  be 
roused  any  more;  grief  had  stunned  and  stu- 
pefied them  forever,  and  a  few  there  were 
who  died  of  grief.  One  young  wife,  who  had 
just  lost  her  baby  and  whose  husband  per- 
ished in  the  fight,  never  lifted  her  head  from 
her  pillow.  When  the  funeral  train  brought 
him  home  we  laid  her  in  old  Blandford  beside 
him,  the  little  baby  between. 

Now  and  then  when  mothers  and  sisters 
were  bewailing  their  loss  and  we  were  press- 
ing comfort  upon  them,  there  would  be  a 
4i 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

whisper,  and  one  of  us  would  turn  to  where 
some  poor  girl  sat,  dumb  and  stricken,  the 
secret  of  her  love  for  the  slain  wrenched  from 
her  by  the  hand  of  war.  Sometimes  a  be- 
reaved one  would  laugh! 

The  third  day,  the  day  after  the  battle,  I 
heard  that  Dan  was  safe.  Every  day  I  had 
searched  the  columns  of  "  Killed  and 
Wounded  "  in  the  Richmond  Despatch  for  his 
name,  and  had  thanked  God  when  I  didn't 
find  it.  But  direct  news  I  had  none  until  that 
third  day.  The  strain  had  been  too  great;  I 
fell  ill.  Owing  to  the  general's  illness  at  this 
time  his  staff  was  ordered  to  Petersburg, 
and  Dan,  who  was  engineer  upon  the  staff, 
got  leave  to  come  on  for  a  day  or  two  in 
advance  of  the  other  members  of  it;  but  while 
I  was  still  at  death's  door  he  was  ordered  off. 
When  I  at  last  got  up,  I  had  to  be  taught 
to  walk  as  a  child  is  taught,  step  by  step; 
and  before  I  was  able  to  join  my  husband 
many  battles  had  been  fought  in  which  he 
took  part.  I  was  at  the  breakfast-table,  when, 
after  months  of  weary  waiting,  he  telegraphed 
me  to  come  to  Culpeper  Court-house. 

This  time  I  packed  a  small  trunk  with 

42 


The  Realities  of  War 

necessary  articles,  putting  in  heavy  dresses 
and  winter  flannels.  The  winter  does  not 
come  early  in  Petersburg;  the  weather  was 
warm  when  I  started,  and  I  decided  to  travel 
in  a  rather  light  dress  for  the  season.  I  did 
not  trouble  myself  with  hand-baggage — not 
even  a  shawl.  The  afternoon  train  would  put 
me  in  Richmond  before  night;  I  would  stop 
over  until  morning,  and  that  day's  train 
would  leave  me  in  Culpeper.  Just  before  I 
started,  Mr.  Sampson,  at  whose  house  I  was 
staying,  came  in  and  said  that  an  old  friend 
of  his  was  going  to  Richmond  on  my  train 
and  would  be  glad  to  look  after  me.  I  as- 
sented with  alacrity.  Before  the  war  it  was 
not  the  custom  for  ladies  to  travel  alone,  and, 
besides  this,  in  the  days  of  which  I  write 
traveling  was  attended  with  much  confusion 
and  many  delays.  I  reached  the  depot  a  few 
minutes  before  train  time,  my  escort  was  pre- 
sented and  immediately  took  charge  of  me. 
He  was  a  nice-looking  elderly  gentleman, 
quite  agreeable,  and  with  just  a  slight  odor 
of  brandy  about  him.  He  saw  me  comfort- 
ably seated,  and  went  to  see  after  our  bag- 
gage, he  said.  He  did  not  return  at  once, 
43 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

but  I  took  it  for  granted  that  he  was  in 
the  smoking-car.  Traveling  was  slower  then 
than  now.  Half-way  to  Richmond  I  began  to 
wonder  what  had  become  of  my  escort.  But 
my  head  was  too  full  of  other  things  to  bother 
very  much  about  it.  The  outlook  from  the 
car  window  along  that  route  is  always  beau- 
tiful; and  then,  the  next  day  I  was  to  see  Dan. 
Darkness,  and  across  the  river  the  lights  of 
Richmond  flashed  upon  the  view.  Where 
was  my  escort?  I  had  noticed  on  the  train 
that  morning  a  gentleman  who  wore  the 
uniform  of  a  Confederate  captain  and 
whom  I  knew  by  sight.  He  came  up  to 
me  now. 

"  Excuse  me,  madam,  but  can  I  be  of  any 
assistance  to  you?  I  know  your  husband 
quite  well." 

"  Do  you  know  where  my  escort  is?  "  I 
asked. 

He  looked  embarrassed  and  tried  not  to 
smile. 

"We  left  him  at  Chester,  Mrs.  Grey." 

"  At  Chester?  He  was  going  to  Rich- 
mond." 

"  Well — you  see,  Mrs.  Grey,  it  was — an 
44 


The  Realities  of  War 

accident.  The  old  gentleman  got  off  to  get 
a  drink  and  the  train  left  him." 

I  could  not  help  laughing. 

"  If  you  will  allow  me,  madam,"  said  my 
new  friend,  "  I  will  see  you  to  your  hotel. 
How  about  your  baggage?  " 

"Oh!"  I  cried  in  dismay,  "Mr.  C 

has  my  trunk-check  in  his  pocket." 

My  new  friend  considered.  "  If  he  comes 
on  the  next  train,  perhaps  that  will  be  in  time 
to  get  your  trunk  off  with  you  to  Culpeper. 
If  not,  your  trunk  will  follow  you  immediately. 
I'll  see  the  conductor  and  do  what  I  can.  I'm 
going  out  of  town  to-morrow,  but  Captain 
Jeter  is  here  and  I'll  tell  him  about  your  trunk- 
check.     He'll  be  sure  to  see  Mr.  C ." 

I  was  to  see  Dan  the  next  day,  and  noth- 
ing else  mattered.  I  made  my  mind  easy 
about  that  trunk,  and  my  new  friend  took  me 
to  the  American,  where  I  spent  the  evening 
very  pleasantly  in  receiving  old  acquaintances 
and  making  new  ones. 

But  with  bedtime  another  difficulty  arose: 
I  had  never  slept  in  a  room  at  a  hotel 
by  myself  in  my  life.  Fortunately,  Mrs.  Hop- 
son,  of  Norfolk,  happened  to  be  spending  the 
45 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

night  there.  I  sent  up  a  note  asking  if  I 
might  sleep  with  her,  and  went  up  to  her 
room  half  an  hour  later  prepared  for  a  de- 
lightful talk  about  Norfolk.  When  we  were 
ready  for  bed,  she  took  up  one  of  her  numer- 
ous satchels  and  put  it  down  on  the  side 
where  I  afterward  lay  down  to  sleep. 

"  I  put  that  close  by  the  bed  because  it 
contains  valuables,"  she  said  with  an  impres- 
sive solemnity  I  afterward  understood. 

Of  course  I  asked  no  questions,  though 
she  referred  to  the  valuables  several  times. 
We  were  in  bed  and  the  lights  had  been  out 
some  time  when  I  had  occasion  to  ask  her 
where  she  had  come  from  there. 

"  Oh,  Nell!  "  she  said,  "  didn't  you  know? 
I've  been  to  Charlottesville  and  I've  come 
from  there  to-day.  Didn't  you  know  about 
it?  John  "  (her  son)  "  was  wounded.  Didn't 
you  know  about  it?  Of  course  I  had  to  go 
to  him.  They  had  to  perform  an  operation 
on  him.  I  was  right  there  when  they  did  it." 
Here  followed  a  graphic  account  of  the 
operation.  "  It  was  dreadful.  You  see  that 
satchel  over  there?  "  pointing  to  the  one  just 
beneath  my  head  on  the  floor. 
46 


The  Realities  of  War 

"  Yes,  I  see  it." 

"Well,  John's  bones  are  right  in  there!" 

"Good  gracious!"  I  cried,  and  jumped 
over  her  to  the  other  side  of  the  bed. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter? "  she  asked. 
"  You  look  like  you  were  scared,  Nell.  Why, 
Nell,  the  whole  of  John  wouldn't  hurt  you, 
much  less  those  few  bones.  I'm  carrying 
them  home  to  put  them  in  the  family  burying- 
ground.  That's  the  reason  I  think  so  much 
of  that  satchel  and  keep  it  so  close  to  me. 
I  don't  want  John  to  be  buried  all  about  in 
different  places,  you  see.  But  I  don't  see 
anything  for  you  to  be  afraid  of  in  a  few 
bones.  John's  as  well  as  ever — it  isn't  like 
he  was  dead,  now." 

I  lay  down  quietly,  ashamed  of  my  sudden 
fright,  but  there  were  cold  chills  running 
down  my  spine. 

After  a  little  more  talk  she  turned  over, 
and  I  presently  heard  a  comfortable  snore, 
but  I  lay  awake  a  long  time,  my  eyes  riveted 
on  the  satchel  containing  fragments  of  John. 
Then  I  began  to  think  of  seeing  Dan  in  the 
morning,  and  fell  asleep  feeling  how  good  it 
was  that  he  was  safe  and  sound,  all  his  bones 
47 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

together  and  not  scattered  around  like  poor 
John's. 

I  reached  Culpeper  Court-house  the  next 
afternoon  about  four  o'clock.  Dan  met  me 
looking  tired  and  shabby,  and  as  soon  as  he 
had  me  settled  went  back  to  camp. 

"  I'll  come  to  see  you  as  often  as  I  can  get 
leave,"  he  said  when  he  told  me  good-by. 
"  We  may  be  quartered  here  for  some  time — 
long  enough  for  us  to  get  ourselves  and  our 
horses  rested  up,  I  hope;  but  I'm  afraid 
I  can't  see  much  of  you.  Hardly  worth  the 
trouble  of  your  coming,  is  it,  little  woman?  " 

"Oh,  Dan,  yes,"  I  said  cheerfully;  "just 
so  you  are  not  shot  up!  It  would  be  worth 
the  coming  if  I  only  got  to  see  you  through 
a  car  window  as  the  train  went  by." 

A  few  days  after  my  arrival  a  heavy  snow- 
storm set  in.  As  my  trunk  had  not  yet  come, 
I  was  still  in  the  same  dress  in  which  I  had  left 
Petersburg,  and,  though  we  were  all  willing 
enough  to  lend,  clothes  were  so  scarce  that 
borrowing  from  your  neighbor  was  a  last 
resort.  I  suffered  in  silence  for  a  week  be- 
fore my  trunk  arrived,  and  then  it  was  ex- 
changing one  discomfort  for  another,  for  my 
48 


The  Realities  of  War 

flannels  were  so  tight  from  shrinkage  and  so 
worn  that  I  felt  as  if  something  would  break 
every  time  I  moved. 

During  this  snow-storm  the  roads  were 
lined  with  Confederate  troops  marching  home 
footsore  and  weary  from  Maryland.  Long, 
hard  marches  and  bloody  battles  had  been 
their  portion.  In  August  they  had  come, 
after  their  work  at  Seven  Pines,  Cold  Harbor, 
and  Malvern  Hill,  to  drive  Pope  out.  of  Cul- 
peper,  where  he  was  plundering.  They  had 
driven  him  out  and  pressed  after,  fighting 
incessantly.  Near  Culpeper  there  had  been 
the  battle  of  Cedar  Mountain,  where  Jack- 
son had  defeated  Pope  and  chased  him  to 
Culpeper  Court-house.  Somewhat  farther 
from  Culpeper  had  been  fought  the  second 
battle  of  Manassas,  and,  crowding  upon  these, 
the  battles  of  Germantown,  Centreville,  An- 
tietam — more  than  I  can  remember  to  name. 
Lee's  army  was  back  in  Culpeper  now  with 
Federal  troops  at  their  heels,  and  McClellan, 
not  Pope,  in  command.  Civilians,  women, 
children,  and  slaves  feared  Pope;  soldiers 
feared  McClellan — that  is,  as  much  as  Lee's 
soldiers  could  fear  anybody. 
49 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

I  found  our  tired  army  in  Culpeper  try- 
ing to  rest  and  fatten  a  little  before  meet- 
ing McClellan's  legions.  Then — I  am  not 
historian  enough  to  know  just  how  it  hap- 
pened— McClellan's  head  fell  and  Burnside 
reigned  in  his  stead.  Better  and  worse  for 
our  army,  and  no  worse  for  our  women  and 
children,  for  Burnside  was  a  gentleman  even 
as  McClellan  was  and  as  Pope  was  not,  and 
made  no  war  upon  women  and  children  until 
the  shelling  of  Fredericksburg. 


50 


CHAPTER   V 

I    MEET    BELLE     BOYD    AND     SEE    DICK    IN    A 
NEW    LIGHT 

The  tallow  candles  were  lighted  on  each 
side  of  my  bureau — the  time  came  when  I  re- 
membered those  two  tallow  candles  as  a  piece 
of  reckless  and  foolish  extravagance — when 
there  was  a  rap  at  my  door  and  Mrs.  Rixey 
entered  to  ask  if  I  would  share  my  room  with 
a  lady  who  had  come  unexpectedly.  A  heavy 
snow  was  falling,  and  the  wind  was  blowing 
it  into  drifts.  The  idea  of  sending  anybody 
out  in  such  weather  was  not  to  be  thought 
of  for  a  moment,  so  saying  yes  I  hurried 
through  with  my  dressing  and  went  down 
to  the  parlor.  Mrs.  Rixey's  house  was  filled 
with^Confederates  who  were  there  either  be- 
cause it  was  near  the  army  or  because  they 
were  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  run  the 
blockade.  Our  evenings  were  always  gay, 
and  when  I  entered  the  parlor  this  evening 
ci 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

there  was  as  usual  a  merry  party,  and,  also 
as  usual,  there  were  several  officers  of  rank  in 
the  room.  I  was  so  busy  sending  messages 
to  mother  and  Milicent  by  a  little  lady  who 
meant  to  run  the  blockade  to  Baltimore  as 
soon  as  possible,  that  I  did  not  catch  my 
roommate's  name  when  Mrs.  Rixey  intro- 
duced her. 

She  seemed  to  be  nineteen,  or,  perhaps, 
twenty — rather  young,  I  thought,  to  be  trav- 
eling alone.  True,  I  was  not  older,  but  then 
I  was  married,  which  made  all  the  difference 
in  the  world.  What  made  her  an  object  of 
special  interest  to  every  woman  present,  was 
that  she  was  exceedingly  well  dressed.  It 
had  been  a  long,  long  time  since  we  had  seen 
a  new  dress!  She  was  a  brilliant  talker,  and 
soon  everybody  in  the  room  was  attracted  to 
her,  especially  the  men.  She  talked  chiefly 
to  the  men — indeed,  I  am  afraid  she  did  not 
care  particularly  for  the  women — and  at  first 
we  were  a  little  piqued;  but  when  we  found 
that  she  was  devoted  to  The  Cause  we  were 
ready  to  forgive  her  anything.  She  soon  let 
us  know  that  she  had  come  directly  from 
Washington,  where  she  had  been  a  prisoner 
52 


I  Meet  Belle  Boyd 

of  the  United  States.  She  showed  us  her 
watch  and  told  us  how  the  prisoners  in 
Washington  had  made  the  money  up  among 
themselves  and  presented  it  to  her  just  be- 
fore she  left.  I  wish  I  had  listened  better 
to  her  account  of  her  prison  life  and  her 
adventures;  but  I  was  on  the  outer  rim  of 
the  charmed  circles,  my  head  was  full  of  Mili- 
cent  and  mother,  Dan  was  at  camp,  and  I 
couldn't  see  him.  I  got  sleepy,  slipped  quietly 
out  of  the  room,  and  went  upstairs  and  to 
bed.  My  roommate  undressed  and  got  to 
bed  so  quickly  that  night  that  I  did  not  wake. 
The  next  morning  when  the  maid  came  in  to 
make  the  fire,  we  woke  up  face  to  face  in 
the  same  bed,  and  then  she  told  me  that  her 
name  was  Belle  Boyd,  and  I  knew  for  the  first 
time  that  my  bedfellow  was  the  South's 
famous  female  spy.  When  we  got  up  she  took 
a  large  bottle  of  cologne  and  poured  it  into 
the  basin  in  which  she  was  going  to  bathe. 
It  was  the  first  cologne  I  had  seen  for  more 
than  a  year,  and  it  was  the  last  I  saw  until  I 
ran  the  blockade. 

That  day,  while  we  were  at  dinner,  a  serv- 
ant, behind  my  chair,  whispered: 
53 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Somebody  out  dar  wan'  ter  see  you 
right  erway,  mistis — er  solger." 

When  I  went  out  into  the  hallway,  there 
stood  the  most  abject,  pitiable-looking  crea- 
ture— a  soldier,  ragged  and  footsore!  He 
was  at  the  end  of  the  hall  farthest  from  the 
dining-room,  and  looked  as  if  he  didn't  wish 
to  attract  attention. 

He  wore  gray  trousers  patched  with  blue 
— or  were  they  blue  patched  with  gray? — 
and  a  jacket  which  had  as  much  Federal  blue 
as  Confederate  gray  in  it.  From  the  color  of 
his  uniform,  he  belonged  equally  to  both 
armies.  His  trousers  were  much  too  short 
for  him,  and  altogether  too  small.  His  shoes 
were  heavy  brogans  twice  too  large  for  him, 
and  tied  on  with  strings.  He  was  without 
socks  and  his  ankles  showed  naked  and  sore 
between  trousers  and  shoes.  He  had  on  a 
bedticking  shirt,  a  tobacco-bag  of  bedtick- 
ing  hung  by  a  string  from  a  button  of  his 
shirt — a  button  which,  by  the  way,  was  doing 
more  than  double  duty — and  an  old  slouch 
hat  was  pulled  over  his  face. 

"  You  wanted  to  see  me,  sir?  "  I  asked, 
stopping  at  a  short  distance  from  him. 
54 


I  Meet  Belle  Boyd 

He  looked  up  quickly. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Nell?  "  he  said.  "  I 
got  leave  to  come  from  camp  to  see  you  to- 
day. My  company  got  in  from  Maryland  yes- 
terday." 

"  Dick!  "  I  cried  in  amazement;  and  then 
I  burst  into  tears.  Dick,  our  dandy,  to  look 
like  this!     Laughter  mingled  with  weeping. 

"  Good  gracious,  Nell !  what  is  the  mat- 
ter? "  he  said. 

"  Dick,  Dick,  how  you  look!  " 

"  Hush,  Nell!  Good  gracious!  You'll 
have  everybody  in  the  dining-room  out  here 
to  look  at  me." 

Then  I  began  to  beg  incoherently  that  he 
would  go  in  and  dine  with  me.  I  think  Dick 
was  hungry,  but  he  was  not  that  hungry.  In 
his  present  garb  starvation  would  not  have 
'driven  him  into  a  dining-room  where  ladies 
were.  He  looked  toward  the  door  with  ab- 
ject terror,  and  tried  to  hide  himself  behind 
the  hat-rack.  I  was  puzzled  to  know  what  I 
should  do  with  him.  As  a  young  lady  was  my 
roommate  it  was  out  of  the  question  to  take 
him  to  my  room,  and  he  positively  refused 
to  go  into  the  parlor.  While  we  debated, 
5  55 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

the  dining-room  door  opened  and  the  ladies 
filed  out  into  the  hall.  Unkempt,  unshorn, 
patched,  ragged,  and  dirty,  a  very  trav- 
esty of  his  former  foppish  self,  Dick  went 
through  the  introductions  with  what  grace 
he  might. 

Fortunately  my  friends  who  surrounded 
him  were  in  sympathy  with  the  threadbare 
Confederate  soldier,  and  ready  to  help  him  to 
the  extent  of  their  power.  One  friend,  whose 
husband  had  a  shirt  to  spare,  gave  that  to 
him;  another  lady  found  him  a  pair  of  socks; 
some  one  else  contributed  a  pair  of  homespun 
drawers.  I  was  drawn  aside  and  consulted 
as  to  the  best  and  most  graceful  way  of  con- 
veying these  presents  to  him.  They  feared 
that  he  might  be  wounded  and  insulted  if  the 
matter  were  not  delicately  managed.  But 
Dick  was  past  all  that.  He  accepted  the 
goods  the  gods  provided  in  the  spirit  in  which 
they  were  bestowed,  and  was  radiant  with  his 
good  luck,  and  with  gratitude  to  the  fair 
donors.  While  we  held  council  he  had  been 
in  Mrs.  Rixey's  and  Miss  Boyd's  hands,  and 
had  had  a  good  dinner. 

As  he  stood  in  the  hall  ready  to  go  back 

56 


I  Meet  Belle  Boyd 

to  camp,  Belle  Boyd  came  down  the  stair- 
case, carrying  a  large  new  blanket  shawl. 

"  You  must  let  me  wrap  you  up,  lieuten- 
ant," she  said,  putting  the  shawl  around 
Dick's  shoulders  and  pinning  it  together. 

Dick  blushed  and  demurred.  A  shawl  like 
that  was  too  much — it  was  a  princely  gift,  a 
fortune. 

"  I  can't  let  you  go  back  to  camp  in  this 
thin  jacket,"  she  said,  "  while  I  have  this 
shawl.  It  is  serving  our  country,  lieutenant, 
while  it  protects  her  soldier  from  the  cold.  I 
may  need  it?  No,  no,  I  can  get  others  where 
this  one  came  from." 

There  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to 
accept  it.  He  looked  at  me  with  something 
of  his  old  humor  in  his  eyes  as  he  started  off. 

"  I'll  be  sure  to  come  to  see  you  again, 
Nell,"  he  said. 

After  he  left  the  house  we  saw  him  stoop, 
take  off  his  shoes,  and  walk  off  with  them  in 
his  hands.  His  feet  left  marks  of  blood  in  the 
snow.  Shoes  had  been  dealt  out  to  the  army 
only  that  morning,  and  his  feet  were  so  sore 
that  his  heavy,  ill-fitting  brogans  were  unen- 
durable. 

57 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

I  have  heard  of  many  generous  deeds  like 
this  done  by  Belle  Boyd.  Once,  when  riding 
out  to  review  some  troops  near  Winchester, 
she  met  a  soldier,  a  mere  boy,  trudging  along 
painfully  on  his  bare  feet.  She  took  off  her 
own  shoes  and  made  him  put  them  on;  they 
were  fine  cloth  gaiters  laced  at  the  side,  and 
trimmed  with  patent  leather.  Some  one  re- 
monstrated; the  shoes  would  not  last  the  boy 
long  enough  to  pay  for  her  sacrifice. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  if  it  rests  his  poor  young 
feet  only  a  little  while,  I  am  repaid.  He  is 
not  old  enough  to  be  away  from  his  mother." 

She  did  not  spend  another  night  with  us. 
She  seemed  to  feel  that  she  had  the  weight  of 
the  Confederacy  on  her  shoulders,  and  took 
the  afternoon  train  for  Richmond. 


58 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  FAITHFUL  SLAVE  AND  A  HOSPITAL  WARD 

Not  long  after  this  I  had  to  give  up  my 
room  to  Governor  Bailey  of  Florida  and  his 
family.  They  had  come  on  in  search  of  their 
son,  whom  they  had  for  months  believed  to  be 
dead,  and  who,  they  had  only  recently  learned, 
was  alive  and  in  the  mountains  near  Culpep- 
er  Court-house. 

It  seems  that  young  Bailey  had  been  shot 
at  the  battle  of  Cedar  Mountain  and  left  on 
the  field  for  dead.  An  old  negro,  his  body- 
servant,  had  carried  him  off  by  stealth  to  a 
hut  in  the  woods,  and  there,  with  such  simple 
resources  as  he  had,  had  dressed  and  band- 
aged the  wound.  The  hut  was  a  mere  shell 
of  a  house,  a  habitation  for  bats  and  owls;  it 
had  been  unused  so  long  that  no  paths  led  to 
it,  and  Uncle  Reuben's  chief  object  in  carrying 
his  master  there  was  to  hide  him  from  the 
Yankees.  He  had  no  medicine,  no  doctor,  no 
59 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

help,  the  master  was  ill  for  a  long  time  from 
his  wounds  and  with  a  slow  fever,  and  through 
it  all  Uncle  Reuben  never  left  him  except  at 
night  to  forage  for  both.  Food  in  the  Con- 
federacy was  far  from  plentiful,  and  under  the 
circumstances  almost  impossible  to  get.  The 
hardships  they  endured  seem  inconceivable  to- 
day. Afraid  to  show  himself  lest  in  doing  so 
he  should  turn  his  master  over  into  the  hands 
of  the  dreaded  Yankees,  the  faithful  old  serv- 
ant saw  no  way  of  communicating  with  the 
family.  He  was  in  a  strange  country ;  he  could 
not  leave  his  charge,  alone  and  desperately  ill, 
long  enough  to  seek  advice  and  assistance, 
and,  besides,  how  was  he  to  know  the  friend 
who  would  help  him  from  the  man  who  might 
betray  him?  He  knew  but  one  token — the 
Confederate  uniform,  and  that  was  not  always 
to  be  trusted,  for  spies  wore  it. 

Confederate  troops  must  have  passed  near 
his  hiding-place  several  times,  but  in  his 
anxiety  to  save  his  master  from  the  Federals, 
the  negro  hid  him  from  the  Confederates  as 
well. 

It  happened  at  last  that  a  party  of  skir- 
mishers who  had  frequently  deployed  along 
60 


A  Faithful  Slave  and  a  Hospital  Ward 

the  obscure  roads  intersecting  the  country, 
noticed,  rising  from  the  depths  of  the  forest, 
a  thin  streak  of  smoke  suggesting  deserters 
or  spies,  and  began  to  investigate.  So,  it  hap- 
pened that  they  came  upon  the  hut,  and  a 
poor,  old,  half-starved  negro  watching  what 
seemed  to  be  little  more  than  a  human  skele- 
ton. When  convinced  that  his  discoverers 
were  really  Confederates,  his  joy  and  eager- 
ness knew  no  bounds. 

"  Ef  any  uv  you  gentlemen  will  jes  send 
a  'spatch  to  Ole  Marster,"  he  said  tremu- 
lously, "  Ole  Marster'll  be  hyer  torecky. 
He'll  be  hyer  jes  ez  quick  ez  de  kyars  kin  git 
him  hyer.  We  ain't  got  no  money.  But  Ole 
Marster'll  pay  fur  de  'spatch  jes  ez  soon  ez 
he  comes.  Ole  Marster's  rich.  He'll  pay  fur 
anything  anybody  do  fur  Mars  Hugh,  an' 
be  thankful  ter  do  it.  Ole  Marster'll  come 
arter  Mars  Hugh  jes  ez  quick  ez  I  kin  git  him 
word.     He'll  pay  anybody  fur  evvything." 

The  soldiers  hardly  knew  what  to  do; 
perhaps  they  never  considered  that  they 
could  do  anything  but  what  they  did:  ride 
away  and  leave  behind  them  the  pair  in 
the  hut.  Perhaps,  poor  fellows,  there  was 
61 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

nothing  else  they  could  do.  Comfortable 
hospitals  for  Southern  soldiers  were  scarce, 
and  the  Confederate  soldier  had  little  to  give 
to  any  one,  even  to  his  sick  comrade. 

The  negro,  the  guardian  in  this  instance, 
was  not  anxious  to  have  his  charge  moved. 
His  whole  concern  was  "  to  git  word  to  Ole 
Marster." 

"  I  kin  take  kyeer  uv  him,"  he  insisted, 
"  jes  lak  I  bin  doin'  'twell  Ole  Marster  come. 
Den  he'll  know  what  to  do.  Mars  Hugh 
ain't  fitten  to  move  now.  Ef  twarn't  done 
jes  right,  he  couldn't  stan'  it,  case  he's  too 
weakly.  'Twon't  do  fur  no  strange  folks  to 
tech  him  nor  'sturb  him,  lessen  dey  knows 
how.    Mars  Hugh  jes  same  ez  er  baby." 

They  gave  the  negro  the  rations  they  had 
with  them,  and  the  whisky  in  their  canteens — 
it  was  all  they  had  to  give  except  their  scant 
clothes — and  rode  on  to  Culpeper  Court- 
house, where  one  of  them  sent  the  despatch 
to  "  Ole  Marster,"  according  to  the  direc- 
tions Uncle  Reuben  had  given.  And  our 
Florida  party  was  "  Ole  Marster "  and  his 
wife,  and  poor  Hugh  Bailey's  young  wife  and 
her  uncle. 

62 


A  Faithful  Slave  and  a  Hospital  Ward 

It  was  well  into  the  night  after  their  ar- 
rival when  four  soldiers  carried  up  to  my 
room  a  stretcher  holding  a  skeleton  of  a  man. 
A  gaunt,  ragged  old  negro  followed. 

The  next  day  the  party  started  for  home, 
but  they  never  got  poor  Hugh  as  far  as 
Florida.  They  stopped  in  Richmond  at  the 
Exchange,  and  there  Hugh  Bailey  died  the 
next  day. 

And  now  began  for  me  the  nursing  in  hos- 
pital wards  that  made  up  so  large  a  part  of 
our  lives  during  the  war. 

"  Jeter  shot,  perhaps  fatally.  Go  to  the 
hospital  and  see  what  you  can  do  for  him.  I 
have  telegraphed  to  his  wife  and  mother. 

"  Dan." 

The  orderly  who  brought  me  this  message 
from  my  husband  said  that  Captain  Jeter's 
command  had  been  in  a  skirmish  that  day, 
and  that  the  captain  had  fallen,  mortally 
wounded,  it  was  thought. 

I  went  to  him  at  once.  He  was  lying  un- 
conscious across  the  bed  as  if  he  had  fallen 
or  been  dropped  there,  dressed  in  full  uniform 
63 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

with  his  coat  buttoned  up  to  his  throat, 
breathing  stertorously,  and  moaning.  There 
was  a  small  black  hole  in  his  temple.  I 
thought  he  must  be  uncomfortable  with  his 
clothes  on,  and  proposed  to  the  nurse  that 
we  should  try  to  undress  him,  but  she  said  he 
was  dying  and  it  would  only  disturb  him.  All 
that  day  and  until  late  that  night  I  stayed  with 
him,  changing  the  towels  on  his  head,  wip- 
ing the  ooze  from  his  lips,  listening  to  that 
agonizing  moaning,  and  thinking  of  the  wife 
and  mother  who  could  not  reach  him.  About 
ten  o'clock  he  seemed  to  be  strangling. 

"  It's  phlegm  in  his  throat,"  the  nurse 
said.  She  ran  her  finger  down  his  throat, 
pulling  out  a  quid  of  tobacco  that  had  been 
in  his  mouth  when  he  was  shot  and  that  had 
lain  there  ever  since. 

He  died  at  midnight,  and  his  mother 
came  the  next  day  at  noon.  I  don't  know 
which  was  the  hardest  to  stand,  her  first  burst 
of  agony  or  her  endless  questions  when  she 
could  talk. 

"  Did  he  suffer  much,  Nell?" 

"  Not  much,  I  think.      He  was  uncon- 
scious from  the  time  he  was  shot." 
64 


A  Faithful  Slave  and  a  Hospital  Ward 

"  Nell,  did  he  send  me  any  message?  Did 
he  call  for  me?  " 

"  He  was  unconscious,"  I  repeated  gen- 
tly, "  and  we  must  be  thankful  that  he  was. 
If  he  had  been  conscious  he  would  have  suf- 
fered more." 

"Yes,  yes;  I  reckon  I  am  thankful.  I 
don't  know  how  I  am  now.  But  I'm  trying 
to  submit  myself  to  the  will  of  the  Lord. 
Nellie,  you  don't  know  what  a  sweet  baby 
he  was!  the  prettiest  little  fellow!  as  soon  as 
he  could  walk,  he  was  always  toddling  after 
me  and  pulling  at  my  skirts." 

I  turned  my  head  away. 

"  Last  night  I  dozed  for  a  minute  and  I 
dreamed  about  him.  He  was  my  baby  again, 
and  I  had  him  safe  in  my  arms,  and  there 
never  had  been  any  war.  But  I  didn't  sleep 
much.  I  couldn't  come  as  soon  as  I  got  the 
telegram.  I  had  to  wait  for  a  train.  And  I 
was  up  nearly  all  night  cooking  things  to 
bring  him." 

She  opened  her  basket  and  satchel  and 
showed  me.     They  were  full  of  little  cakes 
and  crackers,  wine  jellies  and  blanc-mange, 
and  other  delicacies  for  the  sick. 
65 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Do  you  think  if  I  had  gotten  here  in 
time  he  could  have  eaten  them? "  she  asked 
wistfully. 

"  He  could  not  eat  anything,"  I  said, 
choking  back  my  tears. 

"  You  don't  think  he  was  hungry  at  all, 
Nell?  The  soldiers  have  so  little  to  eat  some- 
times— and  I  have  heard  it  said  that  people 
are  sometimes  hungry  when  they  are  dying." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Jeter,  he  looked  well  and 
strong  except  for  the  wound.  You  know  the 
troops  had  just  returned  from  the  valley, 
where  they  had  plenty  to  eat." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.  I  was  just  getting  a 
box  ready  to  send  him  full  of  everything  I 
thought  he  would  like.  And  I  had  some 
clothes  for  him.  I  began  making  the  clothes 
as  soon  as  I  heard  the  troops  had  come  back 
to  Culpeper.  You  say  he  was  wounded  in 
the  head?  " 

Neither  of  us  closed  our  eyes  that  night. 
She  walked  the  floor  asking  the  same  ques- 
tions over  and  over  again,  and  I  got  so  I  an- 
swered yes  or  no  just  as  I  saw  she  wanted  yes 
or  no  and  without  regard  to  the  truth. 

Several  months  after  this  I  saw  Captain 
66 


A  Faithful  Slave  and  a  Hospital  Ward 

Jeter's  widow.  She  was  surrounded  by  his 
little  children — none  of  them  old  enough  to 
realize  their  loss. 

"  Nell,"  she  said,  "  you  remember  the  day 
in  Petersburg  when  we  stood  together  and 
watched  the  troops  start  off  for  Norfolk — 
and  everybody  was  cheering?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  war  does  not  look  to  me  now  as 
it  did  then.  God  grant  it  may  spare  your 
husband  to  you,  Nell!  " 

I  shivered. 

I  called  on  another  widowed  friend.  Her 
husband  —  a  captain,  too  —  had  been  sent 
home,  his  face  mutilated  past  recognition  by 
the  shell  that  killed  him.  Her  little  ones 
were  around  her,  and  the  captain's  sword 
was  hanging  on  the  wall.  When  I  spoke  to 
her  of  it  as  a  proud  possession,  her  eyes  filled. 
His  little  boy  said  with  flashing  eyes: 

"  It's  my  papa's  s'ode.  I  wants  to  be  a 
man.  An'  I'll  take  it  down  and  kill  all  the 
Yankees! " 

"  H-sh ! "  his  mother  put  her  hand  over 
his  mouth.  "  God  grant  there  may  be  no 
war  when  you  are  a  man!  "  she  said  fervently. 
67 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"Amen!"  I  responded. 

"  Oh,  Nell,"  she  said,  "  when  it's  all  over, 
what  good  will  it  do?  It  will  just  show  that 
one  side  could  fight  better  than  the  other,  or 
had  more  money  and  men  than  the  other. 
It  won't  show  that  anybody's  right.  You 
can't  know  how  it  is  until  it  hits  you,  Nell. 
I'm  proud  of  him,  and  proud  of  his  sword; 
I  wouldn't  have  had  him  out  of  it  all.  I 
wouldn't  have  had  him  a  coward.  But  oh, 
Nell,  I  feel  that  war  is  wrong!  I'm  sorry 
for  every  Northern  woman  who  has  a  circle 
like  this  around  her,  and  a  sword  like  that 
hanging  on  her  wall." 

The  little  boy  put  his  arm  around  her 
neck.  "  Mamma,"  he  said,  "  are  you  sorry  for 
the  Yankees ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  am  sorry  for  all 
little  boys  who  haven't  got  a  papa,  and  I'm 
sorry  for  their  mammas.  And  I  don't  want 
you  ever  to  kill  anybody." 


68 


CHAPTER   VII 

TRAVELING    THROUGH    DIXIE    IN    WAR    TIMES 

Our  troops  had  to  get  out  of  winter 
quarters  before  they  were  well  settled  in 
them.  I  am  not  historian  enough  to  explain 
how  it  was,  but  the  old  familiar  trip  "  On  to 
Richmond  "  had  been  started  again,  Burn- 
side  directing  it.  Every  new  Federal  com- 
mander-in-chief started  for  Richmond  as 
soon  as  he  was  in  command.  There  was  a 
popular  song  called  "  Richmond  is  a  Hard 
Road  to  Travel."  They  always  found  it  so, 
though  they  got  there  eventually. 

The  cavalry,  as  usual,  were  on  the  wing 
first.  General  Rooney  (W.  H.  F.)  Lee's  di- 
vision was  sent  to  Fredericksburg  in  Novem- 
ber, I  think.  My  husband,  of  course,  went 
with  it.  I  was  to  go  to  Richmond  and  wait 
until  I  heard  whether  it  would  be  safe  for 
me  to  join  him. 

From  Richmond  I  ran  over  to  Peters- 
69 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

burg,  saw  many  old  friends  and  ran  back  to 
Richmond  again,  fearful  lest  a  message 
should  come  from  Dan  and  I  should  miss  it. 
I  looked  for  a  telegram  every  day,  and  kept 
my  trunk  packed.     It  was  well  that  I  did. 

One  morning  my  door  was  burst  open  un- 
ceremoniously and  Dan  rushed  in. 

"  Ready  to  go,  Nell?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Come.    Now." 

I  put  on  my  bonnet,  caught  up  my 
satchel,  stuffed  brush,  tooth-brush,  and  comb 
into  it  and  was  ready.  Dan  had  stepped  into 
the  hall  to  call  a  porter  to  take  the  trunk 
down.  We  followed  it,  jumped  into  the  om- 
nibus, and  it  rolled  off— all  this  in  about  five 
minutes  from  the  time  he  burst  my  door 
open.  On  the  omnibus,  among  other  pas- 
sengers, was  a  gentleman  who  had  a  brother 
in  Dan's  command.  This  gentleman  had  so 
many  questions  to  ask  about  the  army,  and  so 
many  messages  to  send  his  brother  that  Dan 
and  I  hardly  exchanged  a  dozen  sentences 
before  we  were  at  the  depot.  He  established 
me  in  my  seat,  got  my  baggage  checked,  sat 
down,  and  then  exclaiming: 
70 


Through  Dixie  in  War  Times 

**  Good  gracious !  I  forgot  that  bundle 
for  General  Lee.  It's  on  top  of  the  omnibus, 
Nell.  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute,"  and  darted 
off. 

At  the  next  station,  when  the  conductor 
came  for  my  ticket,  I  said: 

"  See  my  husband,  please.  He  must  be 
in  the  smoking-car." 

A  gentleman  across  the  aisle  remarked: 

"  Excuse  me,  madam,  but  I  think  the 
gentleman  who  came  in  with  you  got  left.  I 
saw  him  get  off  the  omnibus  with  a  bundle 
in  his  hand  and  run  after  the  car,  but  he 
missed  it." 

"  Then  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  I  said 
in  despair  to  the  conductor.  "  I  haven't  a 
ticket,  and  I  haven't  any  money." 

"  Where  are  you  going? "  he  asked 
kindly. 

"I  don't  know!"  I  gasped. 

The  conductor  looked  blank.  I  explained 
the  manner  of  my  starting  to  him. 

"  Do  you  know  where  your  husband's 
command  is  stationed?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  know  that  either.  You 
see,"  I  explained,  "  as  he  belongs  to  the  cav- 
&  71 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

airy  it  is  much  harder  to  keep  up  with  his 
whereabouts  than  if  he  were  in  the  infantry." 

"  What  division  is  he  in?  " 

"  General  Rooney  Lee's." 

"  Do  you  know  what  brigade?  " 

"  Chambliss's." 

"  All  right.  I  know  what  to  do  with  you, 
then.  You  stop  at  Milford.  Your  husband 
will  come  on  the  freight  this  afternoon — at 
least,  that's  what  I  expect  him  to  do.  Your 
best  plan  is  to  wait  at  Milford  for  him." 

When  we  reached  Milford  the  conductor 
took  me  out  and  introduced  me  to  the  land- 
lord of  the  tavern,  and  I  was  shown  into  what 
I  suppose  might  be  called  by  grace  the  re- 
ception-room. It  was  literally  on  the  ground 
floor,  being  built  on  native  brown  earth. 
The  ceiling  was  low,  the  room  was  full  of 
smoke,  and  rough-looking  men  sat  about 
with  pipes  in  their  mouths.  I  asked  for  a 
private  room,  and  was  shown  into  one  up- 
stairs, but  this  was  so  cold  that  I  went  out 
into  the  porch  which  overhung  the  street 
and  walked  up  and  down  in  the  sun  to  keep 
myself  warm.  Very  soon  the  gong  sounded 
for  dinner.  I  went  down,  sat  with  a  rough 
72 


Through  Dixie  in  War  Times 

crowd  around  a  long  table,  swallowed  what  I 
could,  and  went  back  to  my  promenade  on 
the  porch.  After  a  time  an  ambulance  drove 
up  and  stopped  under  the  porch,  and  an  or- 
derly sang  out: 

"  Adjutant  of  the  Thirteenth  here?  " 

I  leaned  over  the  railing. 

"  I  am  his  wife,"  I  said. 

He  saluted.  "  Can  you  tell  me  where  the 
adjutant  is,  ma'am?  " 

"  He  will  be  here  on  the  next  train." 

"  That  might  be  midnight,  ma'am,  or  it 
might  be  to-morrow.  My  orders  were  to 
meet  the  adjutant  here  about  this  time." 

"  The  adjutant  got  left  by  the  regular 
passenger.  But  a  freight  was  to  leave  Rich- 
mond soon  after  the  passenger,  and  the  ad- 
jutant will  come  on  that." 

"  The  freight?  "  the  orderly  looked  doubt- 
ful.    "  Maybe  so." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  I  asked. 

"Well,  ma'am,  all  trains  are  uncertain, 
and  freight  trains  more  so.  And  sometimes 
freight  trains  are  mighty  pertickular  about 
what  kind  of  freight  they  carry." 

I  laughed,  but  the  orderly  did  not  see  the 
73 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

point.  Dan's  body-servant  was  to  drive  the 
ambulance  back,  so  the  orderly,  turning  it 
over  to  a  man  whom  he  picked  up  in  the 
tavern,  went  back  to  camp  according  to  in- 
structions. As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight 
I  began  to  repent.  If  Dan  shouldn't  come  on 
that  freight,  what  would  I  do  with  myself 
and  that  strange  man  and  the  ambulance  and 
the  mules?  It  was  getting  late  when  the  wel- 
come sound  of  a  whistle  broke  upon  my  ear 
and  the  freight  came  creeping  in.  On  the 
engine  beside  the  engineer  stood  my  hus- 
band, with  that  abominable  little  bundle  of 
General  Lee's  in  his  hand. 

"  Josh  got  left  somewhere,"  Dan  said  of 
his  servant,  "  the  man  will  have  to  drive/' 

At  last  we  were  off,  Dan  and  I  sitting  com- 
fortably back  in  the  ambulance.  I  was  very 
cold  when  I  first  got  in,  but  he  wrapped  me 
up  well  in  the  blanket  and  I  snuggled  up 
against  him,  and  began  to  tell  him  how  nice 
and  warm  he  was,  and  how  thankful  I  was 
that  there  was  no  possibility  of  his  getting 
left  from  me  between  here  and  camp. 

"  I  had  a  time  of  it  to  come  on  that 
freight,"  he  said. 

74 


Through  Dixie  in  War  Times 

"  The  orderly  said  you  would."  I  re- 
peated the  orderly's  remark,  and  Dan  laughed. 

"  He  told  the  truth.  I  had  to  do  more 
swearing  to  the  square  inch  than  I  have  been 
called  upon  to  do  for  some  time.  I  knew  you 
didn't  even  know  where  you  were  going,  and 
that  I  must  get  here  to-night.  As  soon  as  I 
heard  about  the  freight,  I  went  to  the  con- 
ductor. He  said  passengers  couldn't  be 
taken  on  the  freightyit  was  against  orders. 
'  I  belong  to  tlie^army  as  you  see,'  I  urged, 
'  I  am  an  officer  and  it  is  important  for  me 
to  rejoin  my  command.'  He  insisted  still 
that  I  couldn't  go,  that  it  was  against  orders. 
I  told  him  that  it  was  a  bundle  for  General 
Lee  that  had  got  me  left,  and  I  pictured  your 
predicament  in  moving  colors.  He  was  ob- 
durate. '  If  the  freights  begin  to  take  pas- 
sengers,' he  said,  'there  would  soon  be  no 
room  for  any  other  sort  of  freight  on  them.' 
I  felt  like  kicking  him.  It  was  then  that  I 
told  him  that  orders  were  not  made  for  fools 
to  carry  out,  and  the  swearing  began.  I 
threatened  to  report  him.  He  looked  uneasy 
and  was  ready  to  make  concessions  which 
politeness  had  not  been  able  to  win,  but  I 
75 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

walked  off.  Evidently,  like  a  mule,  he  re- 
spected me  more  for  cursing  him.  I  had  my 
plan  laid.  Just  as  the  train  moved  out  of  the 
station  I  swung  on  to  the  engine,  and  polite- 
ly introduced  myself  to  the  engineer.  He 
had  overheard  my  conversation  with  the 
conductor — the  first  part  of  it,  not  the  part 
where  the  swearing  came  in — and  he  invited 
me  to  get  off  the  engine.  While  we  were  de- 
bating the  engine  was  traveling.  I  saw  that 
he  was  about  to  stop  it. 

"  Quick  as  a  flash  I  had  my  pistol  at  his 
head. 

"  '  Now,'  I  said,  '  drive  on  with  this  en- 
gine, or  I'll  kill  you  and  run  it  myself! '  I 
am  not  telling  you  all  the  words  I  used,  Nell, 
you'll  forgive  me  this  time,  I  had  to  get  to 
you,  and  honest  English  is  wasted  on  fools 
and  mules.  'Hold  off!'  he  said,  'and  don't 
put  that  d — d  thing  so  close  to  my  head,  and 
you  can  ride  up  here  and  be  d — d  to  you.' 
The  invitation  was  not  very  polite,  but  I  ac- 
cepted it.  I  gave  him  some  good  tobacco, 
and  we  got  to  be  friends  before  I  got  off." 

The  short  day  was  done.  I  was  tired  and 
warm  and  sleepy  and  went  to  sleep  while  Dan 

76 


Through  Dixie  in  War  Times 

was  talking.  I  don't  know  how  long  I  had 
dozed  when  the  driver  doubled  up  suddenly 
and  turned  head  over  heels  backward  into  my 
lap.  I  struggled  from  under  him,  and  Dan 
gave  him  a  push  that  helped  to  free  me  and 
at  the  same  time  jumped  on  to  the  driver's 
seat  and  caught  up  the  lines. 

"  Lord-a-mussy  on  me!  "  I  heard  the  man 
groaning,  "  dat  ar  d — n  mu-el !  she  have 
kicked  me  in  de  pit  er  my  stummick! " 

He  gathered  himself  together  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  ambulance,  and  continued  to  ex- 
press forcible  opinions  of  the  mule. 

"  Dan,"  I  said,  "  please  get  away  from 
there!    That  mule  might  kick  you." 

"Don't  be  silly,  Nell!  Somebody's  got 
to  drive." 

"  But,  Dan,  if  you  get  kicked,  you  can't. 
drive." 

"  I  won't  get  kicked.  I  know  how  to  talk 
to  a  mule.  Just  shut  your  ears,  Nell,  if  you 
don't  want  to  hear  me.  I've  got  to  convince 
this  mule.  She's  just  like  that  engineer  and 
conductor.  As  soon  as  I  get  through  giving 
her  my  opinion  in  language  she  can  under- 
stand, she'll  travel  all  right." 
77 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Presently  Dan  called  out:  "You  can  un- 
stop your  ears  now,  Nell — I  think  she  un- 
derstands." 

"  Dan,"  I  said,  "  are  you  cold  out  there?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it!  This  isn't  anything  to 
a  soldier.  But  a  soldier's  wife,  eh,  Nell? 
Getting  to  be  rather  hard  lines,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Dan,"  I  said,  my  teeth  chattering, 
"  don't  it  seem  that  I  have  had  more  ad- 
ventures in  one  day  than  I  am  entitled  to?  " 

"  Rather!  By  the  way,  Josh  got  on  that 
same  freight.  How  he  managed  it,  the  Lord 
only  knows!  Worked  himself  in  with  the 
brakeman,  I  suppose.  But  he  got  off — to 
look  around,  I  reckon — just  like  him! — at 
some  station  before  Milford  and  got  left. 
He'll  come  straggling  into  camp  to-morrow. 
You  see  there's  another  accident  you  can 
credit  your  account  with.  Josh  could  have 
driven  these  mules  instead  of  that  fool  white 
man  over  there  who  don't  know  what  to  do 
with  a  mule.  Then  I  would  have  been  back 
there  entertaining  you,  and  you  would  have 
been  complimenting  me  by  going  to  sleep." 
He  drove  on  singing: 

"  Sweet  Nellie  is  by  my  side  !  " 
78 


Through  Dixie  in  War  Times 

We  caught  up  with  another  ambulance. 
In  it  were  an  army  friend  of  Dan's  and  his 
wife,  and  she  proved  the  straw  that  broke  the 
back  of  my  endurance.  She  played  the  mar- 
tyr. She  had  rugs,  and  shawls,  and  blankets. 
I  cross-examined  her  and  made  her  show  that 
she  hadn't  been  left  on  a  car  by  herself  with- 
out a  ticket  or  a  cent  of  money,  and  with  no 
knowledge  of  where  she  was  going,  that  the 
driver  of  her  ambulance  hadn't  been  kicked 
in  the  stomach  and  tumbled  himself  back- 
ward into  her  lap  and  nearly  broken  her 
bones,  and  that  my  case  was  far  worse  than 
hers.  But  in  spite  of  it,  she  complained  of 
everything,  and  had  Dan  and  her  husband 
sympathizing  so  with  her  that  they  had  no 
time  to  sympathize  with  me.  I  sat,  almost 
frozen,  huddled  up  in  the  one  shawl  that  an- 
swered for  shawl,  blanket,  and  rug,  and  tried 
to  keep  my  teeth  from  chattering  and  myself 
from  hating  that  whining  Mrs.  Gummidge 
of  a  woman. 

At  last  our  ambulance  drew  up  in  front 

of  the  Rev.  Mr.  McGuire's,  where  we  were 

to  stop.     There  was  a  hot  supper  ready,  in 

parlor    and    dining  -  room    cheerful    flames 

79 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

leaped  up  from  hickory  logs  on  bright  brass 
fire-dogs,  and  our  welcome  was  as  cheery  as 
the  glow  of  the  fire.  As  our  ambulance  had 
driven  into  the  gate  a  few  minutes  in  advance 
of  the  other,  and  as  Dan  had  also  engaged 
board  for  me  several  days  before,  I  had  a 
right  to  the  first  choice  of  rooms.  One  of 
these  was  large  with  a  bright  fire  burning  in 
the  fireplace,  and  a  great  downy  feather-bed 
on  the  four-poster;  the  other  was  small,  and 
had  neither  fireplace  nor  feather-bed.  Of 
course  "  Mrs.  Gummidge "  got  the  best 
room.  Dan  had  to  go  back  to  camp.  I  slept 
on  my  hard  bed  in  my  cold  room  and  cried 
for  Milicent  and  mother;  and  the  next  morn- 
ing I  broke  the  ice  in  my  bowl  when  I  went 
to  take  my  bath.  I  was  very,  very  miserable 
that  morning.  I  was  not  out  of  my  twenties, 
I  had  been  a  spoiled  child,  I  had  not  seen 
Milicent  or  mother  since  my  marriage,  I  had 
nearly  lost  my  husband,  and  I  had  been  ill 
unto  death.  Following  my  husband  around 
as  I  did,  I  yet  saw  very  little  of  him,  and  I 
endured  hardships  of  every  sort.  I  was  in  the 
land  of  war,  and  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to 
protect  me  life  was  full  of  fears  and  horrors* 
80 


Through  Dixie  in  War  Times 

I  do  not  mean  that  it  was  all  woe.  There 
were  smiles,  and  music,  and  laughter,  too; 
my  hosts  were  kind,  Dan  came  over  from 
camp  whenever  he  could,  and  life  was  too  full 
of  excitement  ever  to  be  dull.  During  the 
day  I  managed  fairly  well — it  was  at  night 
that  the  horrors  overwhelmed  me.  My  room 
was  cheerless,  my  bed  was  hard  and  cold — 
I  wanted  Milicent,  I  wanted  mother.  I  felt 
that  the  time  had  come  when  I  must  see  them 
and  I  couldn't:  there  was  no  way!  The  long- 
ing grew  upon  me  the  more  I  struggled 
against  it,  until  there  was  no  risk  I  would  not 
have  run  to  see  them.  I  was  sitting  in  the 
parlor  one  night  thinking  with  indescribable 
longing  of  the  happy,  care-free  days  in  Nor- 
folk, and  seeing  dissolving  pictures  of  home 
in  the  hickory  fire.  Tears  were  rolling  down 
my  cheeks,  for  while  I  was  living  over  those 
dear  old  days  I  was  living  in  the  present,. too. 
Suddenly  I  heard  a  voice  in  the  hall — Dan's 
and  another's! 

I  sprang  up.    And  there  was  Dan,  and  be- 
hind him  in  the  doorway  stood  a  graceful 
figure  in  a  long  wrap.     And  a  face — Mili- 
cent's  face — pale  and  weary,  but  indescrib- 
81 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

ably  lovely  and  loving,  was  looking  toward 
me  with  shining  eyes. 

"Millie!" 

"Nell!" 

That  was  one  time  I  forgot  Dan,  but  he 
didn't  mind.  He  stayed  with  us  as  long  as  he 
could,  and  after  he  left  Milicent  and  I  talked 
and  talked.  Milicent — she  was  a  widow  now 
— had  come  all  the  way  from  Baltimore  to 
see  me — she  had  left  mother  and  Bobby  to 
come  to  see  me!  My  little  bed  wasn't  hard 
any  more,  my  room  wasn't  cheerless  any 
more;  I  didn't  mind  having  to  break  the  ice 
for  my  bath.  Ah,  me,  what  a  night  that  was 
and  how  happy  we  were  until  Dan's  command 
was  moved! 

Millie  and  I — Catholics — wish  to  pay  trib- 
ute to  the  sweet  piety  of  that  Protestant 
home  which  sheltered  us.  Every  evening 
the  big  Bible  was  brought  out  and  prayers 
were  held,  the  negro  servants  coming  in  to 
share  in  the  family  devotions* 


82 


CHAPTER     VIII 

BY     FLAG     OF     TRUCE 
Milicent  tells  how  she  got  from  Baltimore  to  Dixie. 

The  War  Department  of  the  United 
States  issued  a  notice  that  on  such  a  date 
a  flag-of-truce  boat  would  go  from  Washing- 
ton to  Richmond,  and  that  all  persons  wish- 
ing to  go  must  obtain  passes  and  come  to 
that  city  by  a  certain  date. 

I  had  not  heard  from  my  sister,  Mrs.  Grey, 
for  some  time.  We  were  very  anxious  about 
her,  and  I  determined  to  seize  this  oppor- 
tunity to  get  to  her. 

I  was  fortunate  in  making  one  of  a  party 
of  three  ladies,  one  of  whom  was  Mrs.  Mont- 
morency, the  widow  of  an  English  officer, 
and  the  other  Mrs.  Dangerfield,  of  Alex- 
andria, Virginia.  On  our  arrival  at  Wash- 
ington late  at  night,  we  found  all  the  hotels 
crowded  and  were  told  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  get  a  room  anywhere.  For- 
83 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

tunately  for  us,  Mrs.  Dangerfield  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  proprietor  of  one  of  the 
hotels  where  we  inquired,  and  here,  after 
much  difficulty,  we  secured  two  small  rooms. 
As  he  left  us  the  old  lady  said  triumphantly: 

"  Now,  see  what's  in  a  name!  If  my  name 
hadn't  been  Dangerfield  none  of  us  could 
have  gotten  a  place  to  sleep  in  to-night." 

The  next  morning  we  started  for  the  flag- 
of-truce  boat.  Immediately  upon  our  ar- 
rival our  baggage  was  weighed  and  all  over 
two  hundred  pounds  refused  transportation. 
The  confusion  was  indescribable.  As  soon 
as  the  steamer  cleared  the  wharf  every  state- 
room was  locked,  and  the  five  hundred  pas- 
sengers on  board,  with  the  exception  of  the 
children,  were  subjected  to  a  rigid  examina- 
tion— their  persons,  their  clothing,  their 
trunks  were  all  thoroughly  searched.  We 
were  marched  down  two  by  two  between 
guards,  and  passed  into  the  lower  cabin, 
where  four  women  removed  and  searched  our 
clothing;  our  shoes,  stockings,  and  even  our 
hair  were  subjected  to  rigid  inspection. 

Mrs.  Dangerfield  being  the  oldest  lady  on 
board  was  by  courtesy  exempted.  As  for 
84 


By  Flag  of  Truce 

myself,  I  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  pleasant 
woman,  who  looked  ashamed  of  the  office 
she  had  to  perform.  She  passed  her  hand 
lightly  over  and  within  my  dress,  and  over 
my  hair;  touched  my  pockets  and  satchels, 
which  I  willingly  showed  her,  and  dismissed 
me  with  a  smile  and  the  kind  remark,  "  Oh,  I 
know  you  have  nothing  contraband,"  while 
around  me  stood  ladies  shivering  in  one  gar- 
ment. 

I  had  tea  and  sugar,  both  contraband  ar- 
ticles, in  a  large  satchel  upstairs  in  the  care 
of  the  provost  marshal.  I  out-Yankeed  the 
Yankees  this  trip.  As  soon  as  I  had  heard 
that  we  were  to  be  searched  and  have  our 
things  taken  from  us,  I  had  walked  up  to 
the  provost  marshal,  told  him  I  had  tea  and 
coffee — a  small  quantity  of  each — and  asked 
to  be  allowed  to  use  them.  In  the  gruffest 
manner  he  bade  me  bring  them  immediately 
to  him.  My  dejected  looks  must  have  in- 
spired him  with  some  pity,  for  when  I  went 
off  and  brought  back  my  satchel  and  handed 
it  to  him,  he  turned  and  said  in  the  kindest 
manner: 

"  Now  I  have  saved  them  for  you.  After 
85 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

the  search  is  over  come  to  me  and  I  will 
return  them  to  you." 

I  thanked  him  and  hurried  off  to  impart 
the  good  news  to  my  friend  Mrs.  Dangerfield. 
I  found  her  in  a  most  animated  discussion 
with  an  officer  who  had  just  pronounced  her 
camphor-bottle  contraband.  The  old  lady 
was  asserting  loudly  her  inability  to  stand 
the  trip  or  to  live  without  her  camphor-bottle. 
After  much  argument  and  persuasion  she  was 
allowed  to  retain  it. 

The  scenes  on  deck  at  this  time  were  too 
painful  to  dwell  upon.  Mothers  who  had 
periled  everything  and  spent  their  last  dollar 
in  buying  shoes  for  their  children  had  to  see 
them  rudely  taken  away.  Materials  for 
clothing,  and  pins,  needles,  buttons,  thread, 
and  all  the  little  articles  so  needful  at  home 
and  so  difficult  to  obtain  in  the  Confederacy 
at  that  time  were  pronounced  contraband. 
Men  went  about  with  their  arms  filled  with 
plunder  taken  from  defenseless  women  who 
stood  wringing  their  hands  and  pleading, 
crying,  arguing,  quarreling. 

By  this  time  we  were  far  down  the  Poto- 
mac. Weak,  hungry,  and  seasick,  we  were 
86 


By  Flag  of  Truce 

glad  when  dinner-time  drew  near.  The  offi- 
cial notice  had  stated  that  food  would  be 
provided,  which  we,  of  course,  had  construed 
into  three  meals  a  day  of  good  steamboat 
fare.  The  bell  rang  out  loudly  at  last,  and 
we  all  rushed  to  the  cabin,  where  to  our  utter 
consternation  we  saw  nothing  whatever  to 
eat,  no  set  table,  and  nothing  that  looked  like 
eating.  Coming  up  the  steps  was  a  dirty 
boathand  with  a  still  dirtier  bucket  and  a 
string  of  tin  cups.  He  deposited  these  on  a 
table  and  then  called  upon  the  ladies  to  help 
themselves  to  atrocious  coffee,  without  milk, 
sugar,  or  spoons.  Down  he  went  again,  and 
came  up  laden  with  tin  plates  piled  one  on 
the  other,  and  containing  what  he  called  a 
sandwich.  This  sandwich  was  a  chunk — not 
a  slice — of  bread,  spread  with  dreadful  mus- 
tard, a  piece  of  coarse  ham  and  another 
chunk  of  bread.  Each  person  was  generously 
allowed  one  of  the  tin  plates  and  one  sand- 
wich. The  very  thought  of  swallowing  such 
food  was  revolting,  and  more  particularly  so 
because  we  were  tantalized  with  odors  of 
beefsteak  and  chicken  and  other  appetizing 
delicacies  prepared  for  the  officers'  table. 
7  87 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

How  thankful  I  was  to  the  provost  for 
confiscating  my  tea  and  coffee  and  sugar 
and  crackers  and  ginger-cakes!  Each  of  our 
party  had  something  to  add.  Down  upon 
the  lower  deck  we  had  seen  an  immense  pile 
of  loaves  of  bread,  and  near  them  a  large 
stove.  We  coaxed  the  sailor  in  charge  to 
get  us  a  clean  loaf  from  the  center  of  the  pile 
and  to  put  our  tea  on  his  stove  to  draw.  In 
a  few  moments  we  disappeared  to  enjoy  in 
our  stateroom  the  luxury  of  a  cup  of  tea! 
How  others  fared  I  do  not  know.  We  were 
the  only  people,  I  think,  who  had  saved 
any  tea.  Almost  every  one  had  brought  a 
few  crackers,  or  cakes  of  some  kind  which 
they  had  managed  to  keep,  and  these  they 
must  have  lived  on  with  the  abominable 
coffee. 

When  we  reached  the  boat  that  morning 
only  one  stateroom  was  vacant,  and  this  we 
contrived  to  secure.  It  was  crowded  com- 
fort for  three  persons,  but  we  were  thankful. 
When  night  came  our  less  fortunate  fellow 
travelers  were  scattered  in  every  direction 
on  the  floor,  their  only  accommodations 
filthy  camp  mattresses  without  sheets,  pil- 
88 


By  Flag  of  Truce 

lows,  or  covering  of  any  kind  except  their 
own  cloaks  and  shawls. 

We  traveled  slowly  and  cautiously,  fear- 
ing that  in  the  night  our  flag  might  not  be 
distinctly  seen  and  we  might  be  fired  upon. 
The  provost  and  his  officers  were  in  most 
things  polite  and  kind.  The  men  got  up  a 
little  play  between  decks  for  the  amusement 
of  the  ladies;  but  our  party  was  too  ultra- 
Southern  even  to  look  on. 

We  remained  off  Fortress  Monroe  all 
night,  only  starting  at  daylight  for  the  James 
River.  The  trip  up  the  James  was  accom- 
plished in  safety  and  without  incident  of 
special  interest,  if  we  except  a  very  sudden 
and  desperate  love  affair  between  a  Southern 
girl  and  a  Federal  officer  and  the  amusement 
which  it  afforded  us. 

As  our  boat  neared  the  wharf  at  City 
Point,  on  all  sides  were  heard  cries  of: 

"Here  we  are  in  Dixie!" 

As  soon  as  we  were  landed  a  rush  was 
made  for  the  cars,  and  after  everybody  was 
seated  the  provost  marshal  came  through 
bidding  us  good-by,  shaking  hands  with 
many  and  kissing  the  pretty  young  girls.  He 
89 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

had  been  very  kind,  and,  as  far  as  lay  in  his 
power,  had  done  so  much  for  the  comfort  of 
all  and  for  the  pleasure  of  the  young  people 
that  most  of  us  felt  as  if  we  were  parting 
from  a  friend.  Indeed,  some  were  so  enthu- 
siastic that  before  we  reached  City  Point  they 
went  among  the  passengers  begging  sub- 
scriptions to  a  fund  for  purchasing  the 
provost  a  handsome  diamond  ring  as  a  testi- 
monial. Many,  however,  refused  indig- 
nantly, declaring  that  they  did  not  feel  called 
upon  to  reward  the  provost  for  confiscating 
every  article  possible,  and  for  giving  us  for 
seve*n  consecutive  meals  spoiled  bacon,  mus- 
tard, and  undrinkable  coffee. 

In  Petersburg  little  or  no  preparation  had 
been  made  for  us,  although  the  hotel  pro- 
prietors knew  the  truce  boat  was  expected 
that  afternoon  at  City  Point.  We  were 
scarcely  able  to  secure  an  ordinary  supper, 
and  had  to  sleep,  eight  or  ten  in  a  room,  on 
mattresses  laid  on  the  floor,  and  which, 
though  clean  and  comfortable  enough,  were 
without  covering.  The  next  day  we  parted 
to  go  in  different  directions. 


90 


CHAPTER  IX 

I  MAKE  UP  MY  MIND  TO  RUN  THE  BLOCKADE 

Late  one  day  we  saw  an  ambulance  driv- 
ing up  to  the  gate  through  the  pouring  rain. 
A  few  minutes  after,  Patsy,  the  housemaid, 
came  in  to  say  that  the  adjutant  had  sent  for 
his  wife  and  her  sister.  We  supposed  that 
the  two  men  with  the  ambulance  were  rough 
and  common  soldiers — one  of  them,  in  fact, 
the  one  who  had  given  the  message  to  Patsy, 
was  a  negro  driver — and  sent  them  around 
to  the  kitchen  to  warm  and  dry  themselves. 
Very  soon  Aunt  Caroline,  the  cook  and  a 
great  authority,  came  in  hurriedly  and  at- 
tacked Mrs.  McGuire. 

"  Law,  mistess!  Y'all  sholy  orter  ax  one 
er  dem  men  in  de  house.  He  sholy  orten  ter 
bin  sont  to  de  kitchen.  He  ain't  got  no  biz- 
ness  in  de  kitchen.  He's  quality.  You  orter 
ax  him  to  come  to  de  parlor.  He  specks  you 
gwine  ter  ax  him  to  come  to  de  parlor,  case 
91 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

he  done  bresh  hissef  up,  and  he's  puttin'  sweet 
grease  on  his  har,  and  he  say  he  kin  play  on 
de  orgin." 

Such  accomplishments  as  these  changed 
the  whole  situation.  Aunt  Caroline  was  sent 
to  fetch  him.  When  she  threw  open  the  door 
and  announced  him  and  he  entered,  bowing 
low  and  gracefully,  we  could  hardly  restrain 
a  laugh,  for  we  had  a  good  view  of  the  top 
of  his  head,  and  it  was  fairly  ashine!  He  was 
Lieutenant  Dimitri  of  New  Orleans,  my 
husband's  courier,  who  had  been  sent  as  our 
escort.  A  most  efficient  and  agreeable  one  he 
proved. 

If  I  had  only  been  a  young  lady  following 
my  father  or  brother  around,  how  interesting 
these  memoirs  might  be  made,  for  Lieutenant 
Dimitri  was  only  one  of  many  cnarming  men 
I  met.  Available  heroes  pass  through,  bow, 
and  make  their  exits.  And  I  am  afraid  of 
boring  my  friends  with  the  one  hero  who  re- 
mains because  he  is  my  husband;  consequent- 
ly I  keep  him  as  modestly  as  possible  in  the 
background.  He  had  risen  steadily  in  rank, 
and  I  was  proud  of  him,  but  I  must  say  that 
my  memory  is  less  vivid  as  to  his  deeds  of 
92 


I   Determine  to  Run  the  Blockade 

gallantry  than  it  is  to  what  might  have  been 
reckoned  minor  matters  by  an  older  woman. 
The  greatest  crosses  of  my  life  were  separa- 
tion from  my  mother  and  sister,  telling  my 
husband  good-by,  and  beholding  him  in  a 
hopelessly  shabby  uniform.  The  greatest 
blessings  of  my  life  were  found  in  the  lit- 
tle courtesies  and  kindnesses  of  life  and  in 
getting  my  husband  back  to  me,  safe  and 
sound. 

When  morning  came  it  was  still  raining, 
and  the  roads  in  such  a  condition  that  Mr. 
McGuire,  fearing  our  ambulance  would  break 
down,  opposed  our  going.  But  I  knew  that 
the  men  and  team  must  return  to  camp  ac- 
cording to  orders,  so  we  started  off  in  spite 
of  the  weather  and  Mr.  McGuire's  protest. 

We  had  not  gone  far  when  our  driver  was 
halted  by  a  vidette  who  barred  the  way. 

"  Is  Adjutant  Grey's  wife  in  the  ambu- 
lance? " 

"  Yessuh." 

"  Turn  back.     Smallpox  ahead." 

The  driver  turned  another  road.  It  was 
only  a  short  distance  before  we  were  halted 
again. 

93 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"Adjutant  Grey's  wife  in  the  ambu- 
lance? " 

"  Yessuh,  she  sho  is." 

"  Turn  around.     Smallpox  this  way." 

"Lord!  how  is  I  ter  go?"  groaned  the 
driver. 

At  the  next  fork  the  driver  paused  with 
a  look  of  utter  distraction. 

"  I  don't  kyeer  whicherway  we  go,  dar'll 
be  smallpox  in  de  road  sayin'  we  can't  go 
datter  way."  And  he  drove  recklessly  on  the 
way  the  mules  seemed  to  prefer.  The  mules 
struck  it. 

A  vidette  halted  us  again,  but  it  was  to 
say  that  we  were  traveling  in  the  right  direc- 
tion and  to  give  minute  directions  for  the 
rest  of  our  journey.  There  was  a  village  and 
its  neighborhood  to  be  avoided,  and  we  had 
to  make  a  wide  detour  before  the  driver  put 
us  down,  according  to  orders,  at  Mr. 
Wright's. 

Dan  came  in  quite  soon,  looking  as  shabby 
as  one  of  his  own  orderlies,  but  glad  enough 
to  see  me.  For  some  time  here  I  was  in  a 
fool's  paradise  in  spite  of  the  war  and  the 
fact  that  mother  was  far  away  in  Baltimore, 
94 


I  Determine  to  Run  the  Blockade 

ignorant  of  what  might  be  happening  to  us, 
for  camp  was  very  near,  there  were  no  active 
hostilities,  and  Dan  came  to  see  me  every 
day. 

Then  the  cavalry  received  marching  or- 
ders. The  night  after  I  heard  it  I  determined 
to  tell  Dan  of  a  decision  I  had  come  to.  Mili- 
cent had  not  spoken,  but  I  knew  the  drift 
of  her  thoughts  and  purposes.  We  had  not 
heard  once  from  mother  and  Bobby  since  she 
left  them  in  Baltimore.  Milicent  was  going 
to  them,  and  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  go 
with  her.  There  was  no  return  to  Baltimore 
by  flag  of  truce;  the  only  way  to  get  there 
was  to  run  the  blockade,  a  most  dangerous 
and  doubtful  undertaking  at  this  period  of 
the  war.  But  Milicent's  boy  was  in  Bal- 
timore, and  mother  was  there.  She  had 
come  to  me;  she  would  go  to  them,  and  I 
intended  to  go  with  her. 

My  heart  was  set  on  seeing  mother.  To 
be  left  alone  now  by  both  Milicent  and  Dan 
would  drive  me  crazy;  for  Milicent  to  run  the 
blockade  alone  would  serve  me  as  ill.  Be- 
sides, I  wanted  some  things  for  myself,  some 
pins  and  needles,  and  nice  shoes  and  pocket 
95 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

handkerchiefs  and  a  new  hat  and  a  new 
cloak,  and  I  wanted  a  new  uniform  for  Dan. 
Dan  had  had  no  new  uniform  since  his  first 
promotion,  a  long  time  ago.  He  was  an 
officer  of  high  rank,  and  he  was  still  wearing 
his  old  private's  uniform.  He  had  traveled 
through  rain  and  snow  and  mud,  and  had 
slept  on  the  ground  and  fought  battles  in  it. 
Though  I  had  many  times  cleaned  that  uni- 
form, darned  it,  patched  it,  turned  it,  scoured 
it,  done  everything  that  was  possible  to 
rejuvenate  it,  my  shabby-looking  soldier  was 
a  continual  reproach  to  me.  When  Dan 
would  come  to  see  me  I  used  to  make  him 
wrap  up  in  a  sheet  or  blanket  while  I  worked 
away  on  his  clothes  with  needle  and  thread, 
soap  and  water  and  smoothing  irons.  I  was 
ready  to  run  the  blockade  for  a  new  uniform 
for  Dan  if  for  nothing  else,  but  to  tell  him 
that  I  was  going  to  run  the  blockade — there 
was  the  rub !  Evening  came  and  Dan  with  it, 
and  the  telling  had  to  be  done  somehow. 

"  Dan,"  I  began,  patting  the  various 
patches  on  his  shabby  knee,  "  I  want  you  to 
have  a  new  uniform." 

"  Wish  me  a  harp  and  a  crown,  Nell! 
96 


I  Determine  to  Run  the  Blockade 

One's  about  as  easy  as  the  other.     You'll 
have  to  take  it  out  in  wanting,  my  girl." 

"  I  expect  I  could  buy  Confederate  cloth 
in  Baltimore." 

"  Maybe — if  you  were  there." 

"  Dan,  I  think  I'll  slip  across  the  border 
and  buy  you  a  Confederate  uniform,  gold  lace 
and  all,  from  a  Yankee  tradesman,  and  then 
slip  back  here  with  it,  and  behold  you  in  all 
the  glory  of  it.  Wouldn't  that  be  nice, 
Dan?  " 

"  Rather! " 

Dan  took  in  his  patches  at  a  glance,  per- 
haps by  way  of  mental  comparison  between 
himself  in  this  and  himself  in  the  imaginary 
new  uniform.  But  I  saw  he  did  not  under- 
stand me  at  all — I  had  to  make  things  plain. 

"  Dan,"  I  said,  "  I  am  going  to  Balti- 
more." 

"  What?  "  he  thundered. 

"  I  am  going  to  run  the  blockade  with 
Millie." 

"  Have  you  lost  your  senses?  " 

"  No,  Dan.  But  I'm  going  to  run  the 
blockade  with  Millie— to  get  you  a  new  uni- 
form." 

97 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Nell,  don't  be  a  goose!  " 

"  And  some  shirts  and  some  socks  and 
some  pins  and  needles — and  I  want  to  see 
mother — and  Bobby — and — I'm  going." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  allow  you  to  attempt 
such  a  thing! "  he  said  gravely. 

"  I  want  to  see  mother — and  to  get  a  new 
uniform — and  other  things." 

Dan  looked  at  me  as  if  he  thought  I  was 
crazy. 

"  Milicent  is  going — and  I  think  I  ought 
to  go  with  her." 

"  I  don't  want  Millie  to  go — I  don't  think 
she  ought  to  try  it;  and  I  won't  permit  you 
to  go  off  on  such  a  wild-goose  chase." 

I  was  silent  a  minute,  trying  to  think  how 
to  tell  him  as  respectfully  as  I  could  that  I 
differed  with  him  on  this  point.  It  all  ended 
by  my  repeating  in  a  stupid,  poll-parrot 
fashion : 

"  I'm  going  with  Millie  to  Baltimore." 

Dan  looked  at  me  as  if  he  would  like  to 
spank  me!  Here  was  his  obedient,  docile 
girl-bride  blossomed  into  a  contumacious, 
rebellious  wife! 

I  was  ready  to  cry — nay,  I  was  crying — 
98 


I  Determine  to  Run  the  Blockade 

but  I  still  affirmed  that  I  must  go  to  Bal- 
timore. Dan  reasoned  and  argued,  but  that 
didn't  do  any  good.  Then  he  swore,  but 
swearing  didn't  alter  the  case.  The  case  was, 
indeed,  beyond  Dan,  but  he  made  a  long  and 
hard  fight,  and  didn't  surrender  for  a  long 
while.  I  cried  all  night,  and  he  reasoned  all 
night.  When  he  saw  that  the  case  was  hope- 
less, he  started  us  to  Petersburg  under  suit- 
able escort.  We  had  to  go  first  to  Petersburg 
in  order  to  get  the  money  which  we  wished 
to  take  North  to  exchange  for  all  the  goods 
and  chattels  we  might  be  able  to  smuggle 
South. 

Dan  detailed  a  driver  and  an  ambulance 
for  our  service  and  Lieutenant  Johnston  to 
act  as  escort.  The  morning  we  started  it 
looked  cloudy.  Dan  tried  to  dissuade  us.  I 
said  I  had  always  been  a  good  weather 
prophet  and  I  didn't  think  it  would  rain. 
Millie  reinforced  me. 

But  when  it  actually  came  to  telling  Dan 
good-by,  I  broke  down.  His  threadbare 
clothes  plead  with  me  both  ways.  I  hung 
around  his  neck  and  did  so  much  crying  that 
he  got  sorry  for  me  and  helped  me  off. 
99 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  When  I  get  you  a  new  uniform,  Dan — " 
I  sobbed,  as  he  tucked  the  old  blanket  shawl 
about  me  where  I  sat  in  the  ambulance. 

"  Uniform  be !  "  growled  Dan.  Then, 

seeing  my  crestfallen  look,  "  I  reckon  I'll 
like  it  well  enough,  Nell — when  it  comes. 
Good-by,  girls.  You're  mighty  big  geese. 
God  bless  you!  If  you  change  your  minds 
in  Petersburg — but,  Lord!  an  earthquake 
wouldn't  change  you!  Good-by,  my  darling 
— God  bless  you!  I  reckon  you'll  get  along 
all  right." 

The  rusty  coat-sleeve  was  out  of  sight, 
and  I  was  on  my  way. 


ioo 


CHAPTER   X 

I    CROSS    THE    COUNTRY    IN    AN    AMBULANCE 
AND   THE   PAMUNKEY   ON  A  LIGHTER 

As  we  traveled  along  farther  and  farther 
from  Dan,  I  kept  on  crying  softly  to  myself 
now  and  then,  turning  my  face  from  Milicent. 
Presently  her  arm  stole  around  me. 

"  Do  you  feel  so  badly,  darling?  " 

"  I  hate  to  leave  Dan — I  can't  bear  it!" 

"  Then  we'll  turn  back,  Nell." 

And  our  astonished  driver  and  escort  re- 
ceived orders  to  turn  back  toward  camp. 

"  But  in  a  few  days,"  I  sobbed,  "  Dan — 
will — be — gone.  And  you — will  be — gone. 
And  I  can't  stand  that! " 

And  to  the  further  confusion  of  escort, 
driver,  and  mules,  we  were  turned  again. 

"  Better  not  to  do  dat  too  often,  lessen 
we  won't  git  nowhar! "  our  driver  muttered 
to  himself.  "  Dese  mules  is  clean  upsot  in 
dar  min's." 

IOI 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

I  was  upset  in  my  mind,  too.  I  continued 
to  cry  in  a  helpless,  hopeless  fashion,  and  was 
feeling  that  nothing  on  earth  could  make  me 
more  wretched  than  I  already  was  when  it 
began  raining.  Lieutenant  Johnston,  who 
had  the  soul  of  Mark  Tapley,  prophesied  a 
shower  and  refused  to  leave  his  seat  with  the 
driver,  but  in  a  little  while  he  was  driven  in- 
side with  us.  It  rained  harder  and  harder — it 
poured.  The  ambulance  began  to  leak  and 
the  straw  on  the  floor  got  wet.  Milicent  and 
I  huddled  together  under  the  old  blanket 
shawl  and  drew  over  that  a  ragged  piece  of 
oilcloth;  but  the  rain  soaked  through. 
Where  Lieutenant  Johnston  sat  there  was  a 
steady  dripping,  bursting  now  and  then  into  a 
stream.  But  he  was  not  to  be  daunted  by 
discomforts  or  difficulties.  He  invented  a 
trough  for  carrying  off  the  water  by  making 
a  dent  in  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  pulling  the 
brim  into  a  point,  and  sticking  it  through 
a  rent  in  the  ambulance  cover;  and  he  was 
so  merry  over  it  all,  and  so  convinced  that 
things  might  be  far  worse  and  would  soon 
be  much  better,  that  we  were  beginning  to 
laugh  at  our  own  expense,  when  a  sullen 
1 02 


I  Cross  the  Country  in  an  Ambulance 

rushing  and  roaring  reminded  us  that  the 
worst  of  our  troubles  were  still  before  us. 
We  looked  out  of  our  ambulance  upon  the 
swollen  waters  of  the  Pamunkey  River. 

The  thing  on  which  we  were  to  cross  it 
was  moored  to  the  bank  by  a  great  chain.  It 
was  a  lighter  crowded  with  men  and  horses. 
There  were  soldiers  at  the  ends  and  sides 
holding  long  sticks  which  they  used  as  poles 
to  direct  and  govern  the  craft.  Our  ambu- 
lance and  mules  were  driven  on  along  with 
other  teams,  and  we  walked  into  the  midst 
of  rearing  and  plunging  horses,  that  threat- 
ened every  minute  to  back  off  the  lighter 
into  the  river  and  drag  us  with  them,  while 
our  craft  was  making  its  slow  way  to  the 
opposite  bank. 

I  stood  between  two  horses  that  reared 
and  plunged  the  whole  time.  The  men  who 
held  them  had  hard  work  to  control  them, 
and,  I  must  add,  that  they  swore  roundly,  and 
confess  that  this  was  the  one  occasion  of  my 
life  when  I  did  not  undervalue  that  accom- 
plishment or  wish  to  put  any  restraint  upon 
its  free  exercise.  The  truth  is  I  was  so  scared 
that  I  was  ready  to  help  along  with  either 
8  103 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

the  work  or  the  swearing,  if  I  had  only  known 
how. 

As  one  of  the  men  was  trying  his  best  to 
keep  the  horse  he  was  holding  from  plunging 
and  kicking  itself  into  the  river,  or  plunging 
and  kicking  itself  on  me,  he  caught  my  eye  in 
the  middle  of  an  oath,  and  interrupted  himself 
to  begin  an  apology.  The  horse  took  ad- 
vantage of  this  to  make  more  vigorous 
demonstrations. 

"Oh!  oh!"  I  cried  in  terror,  "finish- 
finish  what  you  were  saying  to  the  horse! 
He's  going  to  jump  on  me,  and  I'll  have  to 
say  it  myself  if  you  don't ! " 

I  didn't  realize  what  I  was  saying  until  I 
heard  a  chuckle  from  the  men  within  hearing 
distance.  They  knew  that  I  was  beside  my- 
self with  terror,  and  did  their  best  to  smother 
their  laughter.  But  I  was  past  caring  for 
public  opinion.  I  was  in  an  agony  of  terror. 
There  was  no  other  place  for  me  to  stand — 
horses,  kicking,  plunging,  rearing  horses 
were  crowded  everywhere.  A  lighter  is  the 
rudest  excuse  for  a  boat.  Ours  was  made  of 
planks  crossed  and  nailed  together,  and  be- 
tween their  wide  spaces,  just  under  my  feet,  I 
104 


I  Cross  the  Country  in  an  Ambulance 

saw  the  swollen  waters,  upon  which  we 
seemed  to  be  tossed,  and  careened,  and 
whipped  about  without  the  control  or  guid- 
ance of  those  on  board.  Never  before  or 
since,  never  during  any  period  of  the  war, 
was  I  in  such  a  state  of  helpless  fright  as  on 
that  day  when  I  crossed  the  mad  Pamunkey 
on  a  lighter  with  swearing  men  and  kicking 
horses  around  me  and  the  water  bubbling  up 
against  my  feet. 

Appearances  to  the  contrary,  our  soldiers 
with  the  poles  were  directing  our  craft  and 
turning  the  will  of  the  tide  to  our  profit, 
and  at  last  we  were  on  the  shore.  Safe  in  our 
wet  ambulance,  we  started  on  our  way  again. 
I  was  never  so  cold,  so  wet,  so  everything 
wretched  in  my  life,  and  what  should  Lieu- 
tenant Johnston  do  but  propose  to  go  out  of 
our  way  to  see  St.  Peter's  Church. 

"An  old  colonial  relic,"  he  said.  "You 
ladies  ought  not  to  miss  it  now  that  you  are 
so  near." 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  any  relics,"  I  an- 
swered promptly.  "  The  only  thing  I  want 
to  see  is  a  fire  and  something  to  eat." 

But  he  would  drive  out  of  our  way  to 
105 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

show  us  that  old  church.  I  was  too  wretched 
and  miserable  to  look  at  it  with  proper  inter- 
est. I  don't  remember  how  it  looked — I 
only  know  that  I  had  to  go  there  and  see  it 
whether  I  would  or  no.  George  Washington 
had  done  something  or  other  there — got 
married,  I  believe.  I  think  the  church  had 
some  very  fine  ivy  on  it,  but  I  am  not  sure. 
I  thought  it  was  old  and  small,  and  that  it 
might  do  very  well  in  summer,  but  that  under 
present  circumstances  Washington  himself 
would  forgive  me  for  being  wholly  in  the 
thought  of  getting  to  a  fire.  Hunger  and 
cold,  cramped  positions  and  rain  dripping  in 
on  me  had  blunted  everything  in  me  except 
longings  for  creature  comforts.  The  lieuten- 
ant drove  all  around  the  church  religiously 
before  starting  on  our  way  again. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  saw  it  at  all,"  he 
said  to  me  with  real  concern. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  did!"  I  answered  promptly, 
terrified  lest  we  should  be  turned  back  to  look 
at  it  again,  "  I  saw  it  thoroughly." 

Of  course,  Milicent  had  looked  the  old 
church  over  and  talked  intelligently  about  it, 
but  for  the  life  of  me,  I  couldn't  remember 
1 06 


I  Cross,  the  Country  in  an  Ambulance 

whether  it  was  made  of  brick  or  wood.  And 
I  didn't  care,  either. 

The  rain  had  dwindled  into  a  drizzle, 
night  was  coming  on,  and  I  began  to  grow 
more  and  more  anxious  to  find  a  stopping- 
place. 

"  I  do  hope  we  shall  get  into  a  place 
where  they  keep  good  fires,"  I  said.  "  If 
we  should  get  into  a  place  where  they 
burn  green  pine,  I  should  lie  down  and  die. 
Wet,  green  pine,"  I  continued  dolorously, 
"  that  smokes  and  never  burns,  and  raw, 
clammy  biscuit  is  about  what  we'll  get  to- 
night." 

The  lieutenant  looked  as  if  he  was  very 
sorry  for  me. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said  unhappily,  "  I  wish  I 
knew  how  to  tell  a  place  where  they  burn 
green  pine."     Suddenly  he  brightened. 

"I  have  it!"  he  exclaimed.  "We  won't 
stop  at  any  house  where  there  isn't  a  big 
wood-pile.  We  don't  stop  anywhere  until  we 
find  a  big  white  house,  a  big  wood-pile  and 
a  nigger  chopping  wood." 

We  passed  several  dwellings,  but  the  lieu- 
tenant wouldn't  stop.  "  I  don't  see  any 
107 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

wood-pile,"  or  "  The  wood-pile  ain't  big 
enough,"  he  would  say. 

At  last  we  came  upon  what  we  wanted — a 
large  white  house,  a  wood-pile  nearly  as  high 
as  the  house  and  a  negro  man  chopping  wood 
for  dear  life. 

Through  a  big  front  yard  full  of  shrub- 
bery, a  wide  graveled  walk  and  circular 
drive-way  led  up  to  the  house,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  our  ambulance  was  in  front  of  the 
veranda.  The  lieutenant  sprang  out  and 
went  up  the  steps. 

A  gray-headed  negro  butler  answered  his 
knock. 

"  Wanter  see  master,  sah?  Yes,  sah. 
Won't  you  step  right  in,  sah?  " 

"  I  haven't  time  to  stop  a  minute  unless 
I  can  get  lodgings  for  the  night.  I  have 
ladies  in  the  ambulance.  Ask  your  master  if 
he  will  be  good  enough  to  see  me  at  the  door 
for  a  minute." 

Sambo  bowed,  made  haste  backward,  and 
almost  immediately  an  old  gentleman  ap- 
peared. 

"  Certainly,  sir,  certainly,"  he  said,  inter- 
rupting the  lieutenant  in  the  middle  of  his 
108 


I  Cross  the  Country  in  an  Ambulance 

application.  "  Bring  the  ladies  right  in, 
sir." 

And  he  helped  to  bring  us  in  himself. 
Servants  of  all  kinds  appeared  as  if  by 
magic  from  all  quarters,  and  took  charge 
of  our  trunks,  satchels,  ambulance,  and 
driver. 

The  Virginia  gentleman  of  those  days  was 
hospitable,  as  men  are  truthful,  for  his  own 
sake  first.  His  hospitality  was  spontaneous, 
unconscious,  and  free  as  heaven  itself  with 
its  favors.  All  it  asked  in  return  was  that 
you  should  come  when  you  pleased,  go  when 
you  pleased,  stay  as  long  as  you  pleased,  and 
enjoy  yourself  to  the  top  of  your  bent. 

The  house  was  a  house  of  spindle-legged 
chairs,  spindle-legged  piano,  brass  fire-dogs, 
fine  dark  woodwork,  candelabra  of  brass  and 
crystal,  and  tall  wax  candles.  Through  the 
gloom  the  eyes  of  old  portraits  looked  down 
upon  us.  In  the  wide  fireplace  of  our  bed- 
room crackled  a  mighty  fire  of  oak  and 
hickory;  over  the  fire  hung  a  bright  brass 
kettle  singing  merrily;  there  were  the  ever- 
present  fire-dogs  and  fender  of  burnished 
brass,  and  on  the  mantle  two  wax  lights  burn- 
109 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

ing  in  silver  candlesticks.  Two  smiling  ne- 
gro maids  stood  ready  to  minister  to  us. 

In  opposite  corners  of  the  room  stood  two 
large,  canopied,  mahogany  bedsteads,  with 
great,  downy  feather-beds  and  counterpanes, 
sheets  and  pillows  as  white  as  snow  and 
smelling  of  lavender.  The  undiminished 
length  of  the  table  at  which  we  sat  down  that 
night  bore  testimony  not  only  to  the  good 
cheer  it  had  given,  but  to  that  which  it  was 
ready  to  give.  It  was  of  dark  rich  mahog- 
any, polished  to  the  fineness  of  a  mirror,  that 
reflected  the  tall  silver  candlesticks  holding 
wax  candles.  The  silver  service  and  beauti- 
ful old  china  rested  on  white  mats  that  were 
not  visible  except  where  encircling  fringes  of 
gleaming  damask  suggested  nests  of  snow. 
On  a  quaint  buffet  stood  cut-glass  decanters 
holding  topaz  and  ruby  wines  and  brandy  and 
whisky. 

The  great  mahogany  sideboard — a  small 
house  in  itself — nearly  reached  the  ceiling. 
The  upper  half  was  a  cabinet  with  glass  doors 
shaped  like  the  doors  of  a  Gothic  cathedral. 
The  lower  half  had  drawers  with  white  knobs, 
and  bellied  doors  of  the  most  beautiful  dark 
no 


I  Cross  the  Country  in  an  Ambulance 

wood,  reflecting,  like  the  table,  the  glow  of 
the  wax  lights.  The  glass  cabinet  glittered 
with  silver  and  crystal,  and  here  and  there 
was  clouded  with  the  rich  maroon  and  saffron 
of  rare  old  china.  Our  hostess  was  a  stately 
and  beautiful  old  lady  in  black  silk  (much 
worn),  with  fichu  and  cuffs  of  real  old  lace. 
Our  host  wore  fine  black  broadcloth,  thread- 
bare and  of  ancient  cut. 

Such  a  soft,  shining  picture  as  that  sup- 
per-room was!  I  wish  I  could  paint  it  as  I 
saw  it  that  night !  And  what  a  delicious  sup- 
per! There  was  tea,  sure  enough;  tea  of  de- 
licious aroma;  and  sure  enough  sugar,  too, 
in  fine  white  lumps  which  had  to  be  picked 
up  with  silver  tongs.  There  were  little  tea- 
cakes  and  fairy-like  puffs  and  wafers,  and 
delicious  hot  rolls!  creamy  and  velvety,  and 
light  as  a  breath. 

In  crystal  dishes  gleamed  the  rich,  clear 
red  and  amber  of  preserved  fruits,  and  crystal- 
clear  sweetmeats  were  set  before  us  in  crystal 
dishes.  These  were  cut  in  designs  of  leaf  and 
flower,  fish  and  bird,  squirrels,  rabbits,  and 
acorns — really  too  elaborately  cut  and  too 
beautifully  transparent  to  be  eaten.  And 
in 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

then  there  was  Virginia  fried  chicken — of 
such  a  delicate  rich  brown!  and  such  juicy 
sweetness !  At  last  we  each  lay  covered  up  in 
a  great  downy  bed,  and  went  to  sleep,  and 
slept  as  if  we  never  expected  to  wake  up. 


112 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE     OLD     ORDER 

We  found  fresh  straw  and  hot  bricks  in 
the  bottom  of  our  ambulance  when  we  were 
ready  to  leave  the  next  morning,  an  excel- 
lent luncheon  and  two  bottles  of  wine.  Soon 
after  we  started  the  wind  changed,  the  clouds 
disappeared,  and  the  sun  came  out.  By  the 
time  we  reached  the  Chickahominy  there  was 
sunshine  in  plenty — and  wind,  too. 

Not  a  boat  was  in  sight,  and  no  figure  on 
either  bank  of  man  or  beast.  I  thought  the 
lieutenant  and  the  driver  would  split  their 
lungs  hallooing,  but  there  was  no  response. 
Nobody  answered  and  nobody  came.  We 
waited  on  the  bank  an  hour  without  seeing 
anybody.  Then  an  Indian  came  by  in  a  skiff 
and  we  hailed  him.  He  paddled  to  the  shore, 
and  we  asked  him  if  he  knew  where  we  could 
get  a  boat  and  some  one  to  put  us  across. 
ii3 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

He  knew  of  nothing  and  nobody  of  the  kind 
within  reach. 

"  I  must  hire  your  skiff  then,"  said  the 
lieutenant. 

The  Indian  grinned. 

"  You  no  get  cross  in  it.    You  spill  out." 

"  Never  mind  that,  so  you  get  paid  for 
your  skiff.    I  am  an  old  sailor." 

Powhatan  didn't  think  the  lieutenant 
could  manage  that  skiff;  however,  he  got  his 
price  and  gave  in. 

When  he  saw  the  three  of  us  squeezing 
ourselves  into  the  skiff  he  remonstrated 
again. 

"  Squaws  spill  out.  Squaws  git  sick,"  he 
insisted.  He  told  the  lieutenant  that  we 
would  be  frightened  out  of  our  lives  before 
we  got  across  the  river.  He  didn't  know  that 
Millie  and  I  had  been  brought  up  on  the 
coast  and  were  as  used  to  water  as  ducks. 

Whoever  has  rowed  an  Indian  skiff  may 
have  some  idea  of  what  a  cockle-shell  it  was 
that  took  us  across  the  Chickahominy.  I  sat 
in  one  end,  Milicent  in  the  other,  and  Lieu- 
tenant Johnston  in  the  middle,  paddle  in 
hand,  while  our  little  craft  switched  and 
114 


The  Old  Order 

wriggled  and  rocked  itself  about  in  a  manner 
that  was  as  extraordinary  as  it  was  danger- 
ous, and  that  was  nearer  perpetual  •motion 
than  anything  I  ever  saw. 

At  last  the  lieutenant  stood  up  and 
straddled  the  boat  to  balance  her.  How  he 
ever  balanced  himself  I  can't  say,  but  he 
stood  with  one  foot  on  each  of  her  sides 
and  managed  her  somehow.  No  one  but  an 
old  sailor  could  have  done  it.  I  expected 
every  minute  to  see  him  fall  over  into  the 
water. 

The  sun  was  shining  down,  silvering  the 
waters  of  the  Chickahominy.  The  strong 
winds  churned  the  waves  and  blew  our  hats 
and  veils  almost  off  our  heads,  and  almost 
blew  our  breath  away — when  the  rocking 
skiff  left  us  any.  And  out  on  the  wide,  tur- 
bulent, bright  river  we  tossed  and  tumbled, 
and  laughed  and  got  wet  and  came  near 
drowning.  I  never  had  more  fun  in  any  sail. 
But  at  last  we  were  safely  across,  and  waiting 
by  the  York  River  Railroad  for  our  train. 
The  half-breed  gave  us  our  trunks,  and  took 
back  his  skiff  and  our  money.  In  a  few  hours 
we  were  in  Richmond,  where  the  lieutenant 
ii5 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

saw  us  to  our  hotel,  and  left.  I  sent  a  letter 
by  him  to  Dan,  begging  Dan's  pardon  for 
having  my  own  way. 

The  next  day  found  us  in  Petersburg. 
Our  business  here  was  to  provide  ourselves 
with  money  with  which  to  buy  Yankee  goods 
— particularly  a  Confederate  uniform — in 
Yankeeland.  I  wanted  as  much  gold  as  our 
broker  could  let  me  have,  but  he  advised  me 
against  taking  more  than  enough  to  make 
the  trip  with,  and  a  small  margin  for  contin- 
gencies. 

"  It  will  be  in  your  way  and  increase  your 
danger,"  he  said.  "  Confederate  notes  will 
get  you  to  the  Potomac.  From  there  you 
need  a  little  gold  to  take  you  to  Baltimore. 
After  you  are  there  I  will  contrive  any  sum 
you  want  to  your  trustees  in  Norfolk.  They, 
being  inside  the  Yankee  lines,  can  send  it  to 
Baltimore." 

Our  next  objective  point  was  Mrs.  Rix- 
ey's  in  Culpeper.  Blockade-runners  were 
continually  setting  out  from  there,  and  we 
thought  we  would  have  no  difficulty  in  at- 
taching ourselves  to  a  party.  After  a  rest  in 
Petersburg  of  a  day  and  a  half,  we  started  for 
116 


The  Old  Order 

Culpeper,  reaching  Mrs.  Rixey's  at  nightfall. 
We  told  her  husband  that  we  wanted  to  join 
a  party  of  blockade-runners. 

"  Mrs.  Otis  and  her  two  daughters  start 
north  to-morrow;  perhaps  you  can  go  with 
them,"  he  said,  and  went  out  to  see  about  it. 

Unfortunately — or  fortunately — the  Otis 
party  was  complete — there  was  no  vacant 
seat  in  their  wagon. 

"  I  will  be  on  the  lookout  for  you,"  Mr. 
Rixey  said.  "  Somebody  else  will  be  along 
soon." 

Before  breakfast  he  knocked  at  our  door. 

"  There  are  two  gentlemen  downstairs 
who  are  going  north,"  he  said,  when  Millie 
stuck  her  head  out.  "  They  give  their  names 
as  Captain  Locke  and  Mr.  Holliway,  and  they 
seem  to  be  gentlemen.  That  is  all  I  know 
about  them.  You  might  see  them  and  talk 
the  matter  over." 

We  finished  dressing  hurriedly  and  went 
down  to  the  parlor,  where  we  met  Captain 
Locke  and  Mr.  Holliway,  and  after  a  brief 
talk  decided  to  go  with  them. 

The  best  vehicle  we  could  get  was  a 
wagon  without  springs,  and  instead  of  a 
117 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

body  four  planks  laid  across  the  axles,  one 
plank  set  up  on  each  side,  and  no  ends  at  all. 

Over  the  rude  floor  we  had  a  quantity  of 
straw  piled,  and  two  chairs  were  set  up  for 
Milicent  and  me.  The  gentlemen  seated 
themselves  on  our  baggage,  which  consisted 
of  two  small  trunks  into  which  we  had 
crowded  a  few  articles  for  each  of  them.  The 
wagoner,  a  rough  mountaineer,  sat  on  a 
plank  which  had  been  laid  across  the  two  up- 
rights at  the  sides. 

It  was  a  bitterly  cold  day.  Milicent  and 
I  wore  thick  cloaks,  and  the  wagoner  sup- 
plied a  blanket  which  we  wrapped  about  our 
feet.  In  addition,  the  gentlemen  contributed 
a  large  blanket  shawl  which  they  insisted 
upon  folding  about  our  shoulders,  declaring 
that  their  overcoats  protected  them  suffi- 
ciently. Now  and  then  they  got  out  of  the 
wagon  and  walked  and  stamped  to  keep  their 
legs  from  getting  stiff  with  cold,  and  at  last 
Milicent  and  I  were  reduced  to  the  same  de- 
vice for  keeping  up  our  circulation.  We  got 
so  stiff  we  couldn't  move,  and  the  gentlemen 
had  to  lift  us  out  of  the  wagon,  pull  us  about, 
and  drag  us  into  a  walk  and  a  run. 
118 


The  Old  Order 

It  was  dark  when  we  reached  the  house  at 
which  it  had  been  suggested  we  should  stop. 
Lights  were  in  every  window  and  we  could 
see  much  moving  about.  Mr.  Holliway  went 
in  to  ask  for  lodgings. 

He  returned  quickly  and  jumped  into  the 
wagon,  saying  to  the  wagoner: 

"  Drive  on." 

Milicent  and  I  were  almost  freezing. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  we  asked  in  keen 
disappointment. 

Just  then  the  wagon  made  a  turn,  and  we 
saw  distinctly  into  the  house  through  an  un- 
curtained window.  There  was  a  long  white 
object  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  over  it 
stood  a  weeping  woman. 

"  Why,"  I  exclaimed,  "  somebody's  dead 
there." 

"  Yes,  I  didn't  want  to  tell  you,"  he  said. 
"  It's  a  dead  soldier.  I  was  afraid  it  might 
make  you  feel  badly.  Ladies  are  sometimes 
superstitious,  and  I  feared  you  might  take  it 
as  a  bad  omen  for  our  journey." 

But  we  found  out  afterward  that  it  was 
he  who  had  taken  it  for  a  bad  omen.  He  was 
going  north  to  see  his  family,  and  he  was  so 
9  119 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

anxious  about  them  that  he  talked  of  little 
else.  Captain  Locke's  mission  was  not  so 
clear.  He  called  it  business — we  little  knew 
what  dangerous  business  it  was! — and  we 
troubled  our  heads  no  further  about  it. 

It  was  very  late  when  we  at  last  came 
upon  a  tumble-down  farmhouse,  where  we 
were  taken  in  for  the  night.  The  family 
who  lived  there  did  their  best  for  us,  but 
they  were  far  from  being  comfortable  them- 
selves. By  this  time,  however,  any  quarters 
and  any  fare  were  acceptable.  We  slept  in 
the  room  with  a  goodly  company,  all  fortu- 
nately of  our  own  sex,  and  the  gentlemen,  as 
we  heard  afterward,  in  even  more  crowded 
quarters. 

Our  poverty-stricken  hosts  did  not  wish 
to  charge  us,  but  before  we  left  the  next 
morning  we  insisted  upon  paying  them. 

That  morning  a  little  Jew  boy  was  added 
to  our  party.  Just  how,  or  when,  or  where 
we  picked  him  up,  I  can  not  recall,  and  I 
should  probably  never  have  thought  of  him 
again  if  he  had  not  impressed  himself  upon 
me  most  unpleasantly  afterward  at  Berlin. 

Our  second  night  we  spent  according  to 
1 20 


The  Old  Order 

our  program,  in  Fauquier  County,  with  Mr. 
Robert  Boiling,  a  friend  of  my  husband's. 

"  I  am  astonished  at  your  trying  to  run  the 
blockade,  Mrs.  Grey,"  he  said. 

"Why?"  I  asked.  "And  why  are  you 
more  astonished  at  me  than  at  Milicent?  " 

I  had  been  hearing  similar  remarks,  and 
was  becoming  curious. 

"  Because  you  look  like  a  little  girl.  I 
am  surprised  at  such  nerve  in  so  youthful  a 
lady." 

"  I  want  a  new  uniform  for  Dan,"  I  said. 
"  He's  promoted." 

Mr.  Boiling  laughed  heartily. 

"  And  I  am  quite  as  brave  as  Milicent,"  I 
insisted. 

"  Well,  I  am  surprised  at  you  both.  It  is 
a  dangerous  undertaking." 

Our  wagoner  was  invited  to  take  supper 
with  us.  He  was  rough  and  ill-clad,  and  he 
felt  out  of  place,  but  Mr.  Boiling  charmed 
him  into  ease  and  talked  over  our  prospec- 
tive journey  with  him. 

"  It  is  well  for  you  to  be  on  good  terms 
with  your  wagoner,"  he  said  to  us  privately, 
when  he  sent  out  the  invitation. 
121 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Mr.  Boiling  was  old  and  gray-haired,  or 
he  would  have  been  in  the  field.  His  home 
was  one  of  the  most  celebrated  country-seats 
in  Fauquier,  and  he  himself  full  of  honors  and 
one  of  the  best-known  men  in  the  State. 

The  night  we  spent  at  this  old  Virginia 
homestead  was  repetition  of  a  night  previ- 
ously described,  with  variations.  Here  were 
the  same  old-fashioned  mahogany  furniture 
with  claw  feet  and  spindle  legs,  and  wax 
lights  in  brass  and  silver  candelabra,  and 
rare  old  china,  and  some  heirlooms  whose 
history  we  were  interested  in.  Several  of 
these  had  come  with  the  first  Boilings  from 
England.  There  was  a  sword  which  had 
come  down  from  the  War  of  the  Roses,  and 
on  the  wall,  in  a  place  of  special  honor,  hung 
the  sword  of  a  Boiling  who  had  distinguished 
himself  in  the  Revolution.  Mr.  Boiling  took 
it  down  and  laid  it  in  Milicent's  outstretched 
hands  with  a  smile. 

"  I  am  a  believer  in  State's  rights,  and  I 
am  a  Secessionist,  I  suppose,"  said  the  old 
man  with  a  sigh,  as  he  hung  the  sword  back 
in  its  place.     "  But — I  hate  to  fight  the  old 

flag.    I  hate  that." 

122 


The  Old  Order 

Above  the  sword  was  the  portrait  of  the 
Boiling  who  had  worn  the  sword,  a  soldierly 
looking  fellow  in  the  uniform  of  a  Revolu- 
tionary colonel. 

"  He  saved  the  old  flag  once  at  the  cost 
of  his  life,"  the  aged  man  said,  sighing  again. 
"  He  is  buried  out  yonder  in  the  graveyard, 
wrapped  in  the  folds  of  the  very  flag  he 
snatched  from  the  hands  of  the  British.  If 
we  were  to  open  his  grave  to-night,  we  would 
find  his  bones  and  ashes  wrapped  in  that  flag 
he  died  to  save.  Yes,  I  am  sorry  to  fight  the 
old  flag." 

"  Then,"  I  said  innocently  and  without 
thinking,  "  it  is  well  that  you  are  exempted 
from  service  in  the  field." 

His  eyes  flashed. 

"Ah,  no,  my  dear!  Since  fighting  there 
is,  I  wish  I  could  be  in  it.  If  I  were  young 
enough  and  strong  enough  I'd  take  that 
sword  down  and  follow  Robert  Lee.  Vir- 
ginia is  invaded." 


123 


CHAPTER    XII 

A    DANGEROUS   MASQUERADE 

The  night  of  our  third  day  found  us  at 
the  wagoner's  cottage  on  the  top  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  Mountains.  As  we  climbed  our  slow 
and  painful  way  up  to  the  ruddy  little  light 
that  beckoned  us  from  its  wild  and  eerie 
perch,  moonlight  and  starlight  fell  upon 
snow-capped  cliffs  and  into  deep  valleys, 
touching  them  into  solemn,  mystical  beauty. 
It  was  as  if  we  had  lost  ourselves  in  the  clear, 
white  stillness  of  the  enchanted  Snow  King- 
dom that  had  enthralled  and  terrified  us  in 
the  happy  days  of  fairy  tales.  But  there  was 
nothing  magical  about  the  cottage  when  we 
finally  got  there,  or  the  welcome,  or  the  sup- 
per. Instead  of  fairies  and  cowslip  dew  and, 
bread  of  lily  pollen,  we  had  a  delightfully 
wholesome,  plump  Virginia  housewife,  a  Vir- 
ginia welcome,  and,  above  all,  a  Virginia 
supper. 

124 


A  Dangerous  Masquerade 

The  cottage  was  plainly  furnished,  but  it 
was  neat  as  a  pin.  The  mountaineer's  wife 
and  mother  served  us,  the  one  waiting  on  us, 
the  other  cooking.  We  sat  at  table  in  the 
kitchen,  and  such  a  feast  as  we  had!  There 
was  nice  apple-butter  on  the  table,  and  deli- 
cious milk  and  cream,  fresh  eggs  and  hot  buck- 
wheat cakes,  and  genuine  maple  sirup,  of 
course.  I  have  never  tasted  such  buckwheats 
anywhere.  And  how  fast  the  old  lady  fried 
them,  and  the  wife  handed  them  to  us,  piping 
hot!  and  how  fast  we  ate!  and  how  many! 

The  furniture  in  our  bedroom,  as  every- 
where else,  was  exceedingly  plain,  but  so 
deliciously  clean.  And  such  a  bed!  such  a 
downy,  fragrant  bed!  The  sheets  were 
snowy,  the  coverlet  was  spotless.  As  I  went 
to  sleep  I  had  an  idea  that  the  feathers  in  that 
bed  must  have  come  from  the  breasts  of 
mountain  birds  that  had  never  touched  the 
earth.  In  the  morning  the  mountaineer  took 
us  to  a  point  near  his  house,  where  we  could 
stand  and  look  into — I  have  forgotten  how 
many  States,  and  out  upon  snowy  peaks,  and 
mountain  streams,  and  lovely  shadowed 
vales. 

125 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

We  lost  our  Confederate  captain  when  we 
started  down  the  mountain  that  day;  Mr. 
Holliway  had  all  along  been  in  civilian's  dress, 
and  now  Captain  Locke  changed  his  uniform 
for  citizen's  clothes,  leaving  the  uniform  at 
the  cottage,  to  be  called  for  on  his  return. 

The  fourth  night  we  reached  Berryville. 

Here  it  was  necessary  to  hold  a  council 
with  closed  doors,  for  the  presence  of  the  lit- 
tle Jew  boy  had  for  several  days  prevented  us 
from  talking  freely. 

He  seemed  to  have  eyes  and  ears  all  over 
him,  and  we  felt  vaguely  that  he  would  use 
both  to  our  disadvantage.  So  we  shut  him 
out  of  the  little  room  at  the  inn  in  Berryville 
where  we  held  our  secret  council.  The  mor- 
row would  find  us  inside  the  Federal  lines — -it 
was  necessary  to  prepare  our  story.  We 
agreed  that  Captain  Locke  was  to  be  our 
brother,  because  he  had  fair  hair  and  blue 
eyes  like  ourselves.  Mr.  Holliway  was  of  too 
entirely  different  a  type  to  be  claimed  for  a 
nearer  relationship  than  that  of  cousin.  We 
were  young  ladies  of  Baltimore  who  had  been 
visiting  at  Mr.  Robert  Boiling's  in  Fauquier, 
and  our  brother  and  cousin  had  come  south 
126 


A  Dangerous  Masquerade 

to  take  us  home,  not  being  willing  that  we 
should  undertake  such  a  journey  alone.  Cap- 
tain Locke  gave  Milicent  some  papers  to  be 
concealed  in  the  lining  of  her  muff.  I,  too, 
had  some  papers  to  hide  for  him.  Fortu- 
nately we  did  not  know  until  afterward 
that  Captain  Locke  was  a  Confederate  spy, 
and  that  the  papers  we  carried  were  official 
documents  of  importance  to  the  Confeder- 
acy, and  that  if  discovered  the  captain  would 
be  strung  up  in  short  order  and  every  one 
of  us  sent  to  prison. 

If  we  had  known  what  he  was  and  the 
nature  of  the  papers,  I  think  our  patriotism 
would  have  risen  to  the  occasion,  but  we 
should  have  been  more  nervous  and  more 
likely  to  betray  ourselves.  So  I  think  he  was 
wise  to  take  the  liberty  of  counting  on  our 
patriotism,  and  also  to  keep  us  in  the  dark 
as  a  safeguard  for  both  ourselves  and  the 
papers. 

The  next  forenoon  we  reached  the  Poto- 
mac River,  and  found  ourselves  in  Federal 
lines.  Our  wagoner  bade  us  good-by  and 
left  us  there  on  the  bank.  In  the  river  below 
lay  the  lighter  on  which  we  were  to  cross  the 
127 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Potomac.  It  was  crowded  with  Federal  sol- 
diers. There  was  no  way  to  reach  it  except 
to  slide  down  the  bank,  and  the  bank  was 
steep.  To  slide  down,  it  was  neither  a  grace- 
ful nor  a  dignified  thing  to  do.  I  drew  back. 
The  captain  took  me  by  the  hand  to  pull  me 
over.  I  still  drew  back.  I  did  not  want  to 
slide  down  that  bank. 

"  Come  on,  sister! "  he  exclaimed  with 
brotherly  crossness. 

I  grinned  broadly,  but  the  captain,  his 
back  to  the  lighter,  gave  me  such  a  serious 
look  that  I  sobered  in  an  instant. 

"  Sister,  come  along!  Don't  be  a 
goose! "  he  said,  and  giving  me  a  jerk  pulled 
me  over. 

The  Federal  soldiers  on  the  lighter  could 
see  and  hear.  One  blunder  now  and  we  were 
lost.  I  yielded  to  the  inevitable  and  slid 
down  the  bank  with  the  captain;  Mr.  Holli- 
way  followed  with  Milicent.  Another  minute, 
and  we  stood  on  the  lighter  in  the  midst  of 
Yankee  soldiers  and  Yankee  horses.  A 
horse's  nose  was  over  my  shoulder  the  whole 
way.  Soldiers  were  crowded  up  against  me, 
there  was  ample  occasion  for  swears,  but  I 
128 


A  Dangerous  Masquerade 

don't  think  I  heard  an  oath  the  entire  dis- 
tance, and  they  were  courtesy  itself  to  Mili- 
cent  and  me. 

Landing  at  Berlin,  we  walked  into  the 
office  of  the  provost  marshal.  The  provost 
was  out,  and  the  deputy  who  was  at  his  desk 
looked  at  us  with  cool,  inquisitive  eyes.  He 
put  the  usual  questions  and  received  ready- 
made  answers. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  he  asked  Captain  Locke 
in  a  very  suspicious  tone. 

"  Charles  D.  Moore,  of  Baltimore." 

"  Occupation?  " 

"  I  am  studying  law." 

"Humph!"  with  a  glance  that  made  me 
keenly  alive  to  the  lameness  of  that  story  told 
by  the  martial-looking  captain. 

"  What  are  you  doing  down  here?  " 

"  Taking  my  sisters  back  home." 

"Humph!  Who  are  you?"  turning  to 
Mr.  Holliway. 

"William  H.  May,  of  Baltimore." 

"Studying  law  too?" 

"  No.    I  expect  to  study  medicine." 

"Are  you  taking  these  ladies  back  home 
too?  " 

129 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  I  am  accompanying  them,  certainly," 
said  Mr.  Holliway  with  asperity. 

"  Who  are  these  ladies?  " 

"  My  sisters,"  said  Captain  Locke  firmly, 
"  and  I  am  here  to  protect  them  on  their  way 
back  home." 

"  Where  have  they  been?  " 

"  They  are  from  Mr.  Robert  Boiling's  in 
Fauquier  County,  Virginia.  They  have  been 
visiting  at  his  house.  We  wished  them  to 
return  to  Baltimore,  and  I  came  south  for 
them.    My  cousin,  Mr.  May,  joined  us." 

"  And  you — what  are  you  doing  down 
here?  "  with  a  touch  of  irony  to  Holliway. 

"  Got  caught  this  side  by  the  war,  and  am 
trying  to  get  back  home." 

"  Ah,  yes,  of  course.  I  can't  pass  you. 
Take  seats,  please.  The  marshal  will  be  in 
directly." 

Our  evidence  was  too  smooth. 

It  was  plain  the  deputy  didn't  believe 
in  us,  and  we  felt  uneasy  and  miserable 
to  the  soles  of  our  boots — except  Cap- 
tain Locke,  who  looked  thoroughly  at  his 
ease. 

It    was   an    hour    or    longer   before   the 
130 


A  Dangerous  Masquerade 

marshal  came  in.  It  seemed  a  great  deal 
more,  yet  I  can't  say  that  I  longed  to  see 
him. 

"  What's  all  this?  "  he  asked  his  deputy 
as  he  took  in  our  party,  braced  up  against  the 
wall. 

"  A  party  who  crossed  from  Virginia  this 
morning.  They  have  been  visiting  in  Fau- 
quier— they  say — and  want  to  get  back  to 
Baltimore.  A  lame  tale,  I  call  it.  I  would 
send  them  straight  back  if  I  had  my  way 
with  them." 

The  provost's  eyes  had  rested  first  on  me, 
as  I  happened  to  be  more  conspicuously 
placed  than  the  others.  I  have  been  accred- 
ited with  a  most  ingenuous  countenance.  I 
returned  his  gaze  with  a  regard  utterly  "  child- 
like and  bland,"  looking  up  into  his  face  with 
eyes  as  frank  and  trusting  as  a  baby's.  Past 
me  his  gaze  went  to  Milicent — I  have  said 
before  that  Milicent  had  the  face  of  a  Ma- 
donna; then  the  manly  and  straightforward 
eyes  of  Locke  held  him;  and  last  Mr.  Holli- 
way's  reserved  and  gentlemanly  countenance 
met  his  scrutiny  with  a  quiet  dignity  that 
disarmed  suspicion.  He  began  by  interview- 
131 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

ing  Milicent  and  me.     When  he  questioned 
me  I  said  plaintively: 

"  I  have  been  here  an  hour,  sir,  and  I  am 
very  tired.  I  would  be  so  much  obliged  if 
you  would  send  us  on  home.  I  am  almost 
sick  with  the  journey  I  have  taken,  and  I 
should  so  like  to  get  home  to-night." 

"That  is  impossible,"  he  said;  "but,"  he 
continued  kindly,  "  I  do  not  think  you  will 
be  detained  later  than  to-morrow  morning." 

He  conversed  in  a  low  tone  with  his 
deputy,  and  then  I  heard  him  say:  "  Let  them 
spend  the  night  at  the  old  German's  on  the 
hill,  and  to-morrow  we  will  see  about  it." 

Then  turning  to  us,  he  said  that  an  orderly 
would  conduct  us  to  a  place  where  we  would 
be  lodged  for  the  night.  When  an  officer 
asked  about  our  baggage,  I  extended  my 
keys  quickly,  saying: 

"  We  have  two  small  trunks." 

He  took  the  keys  with  an  apology.  As 
I  was  passing  out  of  the  door  I  turned  back 
and  held  out  my  satchel. 

"  I  forgot  that  you  have  to  examine  this." 

"  It  is  not  necessary,  miss,"  he  said, 
smiling. 

132 


A  Dangerous  Masquerade 

The  old  Dutchman  was  out,  but  his  wife 
received  us  and  made  us  comfortable.  While 
we  were  at  supper  he  came  in.  "  I  speeks  mit 
you  after  supper,"  he  said  solemnly,  and  sat 
in  silence  until  we  had  finished. 

Then  he  took  us  into  a  room,  closed  and 
locked  the  door,  came  close  to  us,  and  whis- 
pered: 

"  I  knows  dat  you  haf  run  te  plockate. 
You  bees  in  ver'  mooch  tancher.  Town  te 
stdreet  I  hears  you  vas  at  mine  house,  unt  I 
hears  ver'  mooch  talk,  unt  I  lis'en.  I  vill  help 
you  if  you  vill  let  me." 

He  now  addressed  himself  particularly  to 
Captain  Locke  and  Mr.  Holliway: 

"  You,  shentlemen,  mus'  leave  mine 
house,  shoost  as  soon  as  you  can,  or  you  vill 
be  daken  brisoners.  I  vill  help  you  to  get 
avay." 

"  We  can't  do  it,"  said  Locke  promptly. 
"  I  can  not  leave  my  sisters  alone  and  unpro- 
tected." 

Milicent  and  I  were  trembling  with  fear. 

"  Brother,"  said  Milicent,  "  you  and 
Cousin  William  must  leave  us  and  save  your- 
selves." 

133 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Please  go,"  I  begged.  I  could  not  keep 
my  eyes  off  the  door.  I  feared  every  moment 
to  hear  the  rap  of  the  sergeant  come  to  arrest 
our  friends.  But  the  captain  and  Mr.  Holli- 
way  reiterated  their  determination  not  to 
leave  us  in  our  present  situation.  If  I  had  not 
been  scared  almost  to  death  I  could  have 
laughed  at  the  perfect  brotherliness  of 
Locke's  protestations. 

"  Tere  is  tancher,  shentlemen.  I  hears  te 
talk  town  te  street,"  urged  the  Dutchman 
with  every  appearance  of  earnestness  and 
good-will. 

"  What  did  you  hear?  "  asked  Locke  non- 
chalantly. 

"  Oh,  tey  tinks  you  haf  not  tolt  vat  you 
vas.  Tey  tinks  you  be  Secesh — unt  I  ton't 
know  vat  tey  tinks." 

"  I  can't  help  what  they  think,"  said 
Locke.  "  I  am  going  to  protect  my  sis- 
ters." 

"  How  you  brotect  tern  ven  you  be  bris- 
oners,  heinf  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Locke,  smiling, 
"  but  I  certainly  shall  not  leave  them." 

"  Vat  goot  you  do?  I  vill  take  care  of  te 
134 


A  Dangerous  Masquerade 

ladies.  Nopody  vill  hu't  tern,  unt  I  vill  see 
dat  tey  gets  off  all  right.  Tere  is  no  tancher 
for  tern." 

"  Thank  you,  my  friend,"  said  the  captain 
simply  and  heartily.  "  But  we  can  not  accept 
your  kind  offer.  We  must  take  my  sisters 
home  ourselves." 

"  I  ver'  sorry,"  said  the  Dutchman  sadly. 

As  soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  him, 
we  began  to  plead. 

"  Captain,"  said  Milicent,  "  you  and  Mr. 
Holliway  must  go.  We  will  not  consent  to 
anything  else." 

"  We  should  be  regular  deserters  to  do 
that,"  said  Locke  contemptuously.  "  I  think 
the  old  fellow  is  exaggerating.  Or  maybe 
he  is  pumping  us.  Holliway  and  I  will  walk 
down  the  street  and  see." 

We  thought  this  was  madness,  and  we 
were  miserable  from  the  moment  they  left 
until  they  were  safely  back.  Captain  Locke 
Was,  as  always,  at  his  ease,  but  Mr.  Holliway 
was  very  pale.  He  knew,  as  Milicent  and  I 
did  not,  the  risk  we  were  all  running,  and  he 
was  more  concerned  perhaps  for  Locke's 
safety  than  for  his  own.  For  him  arrest 
10  135 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

meant  prison  at  the  worst — for  Locke,  a 
halter. 

"  The  Dutchman  is  right,"  he  said  in  an- 
swer to  our  questions.  "  We  stopped  outside 
several  places  and  heard  them  talking  about 
us  and  our  arrest.  We  are  practically  pris- 
oners." 

He  tried  to  speak  cheerfully  and  as  if 
it  would  be  a  sure  and  easy  matter  to  find 
some  way  out  of  our  predicament;  but 
the  truth  was  that  he  had  been  struggling 
all  along  against  great  depression  of  spirits; 
his  health  was  bad,  the  incident  of  the  first 
night  of  our  journey  had  impressed  him, 
and  he  had  evidently  felt  himself  under 
a  cloud  ever  since  our  experience  at  the 
provost's. 

"  That  talk  doesn't  amount  to  much,"  said 
Captain  Locke  carelessly. 

The  room  in  which  we  were  sitting  was 
that  which  had  been  taken  for  Milicent's  and 
my  bedroom.  Captain  Locke  got  up,  walked 
to  the  door  and  locked  it. 

"  You  have  needles  and  thread,  I  think, 
ladies?  " 

Milicent  and  I  immediately  produced  them 
136 


A  Dangerous  Masquerade 

and  slipped  on  our  thimbles.  He  handed 
Milicent  his  open  knife. 

"  Rip  the  papers  out  of  your  muff,  Mrs. 
Norman,  and  you,  little  madam,  let  me  have 
those  I  gave  you." 

The  two  I  had  were  hidden  in  my  sleeve. 
While  Milicent  and  I  were  getting  the  papers 
out,  I  heard  Mr.  Holliway  say: 

"  Burn  those  papers,  Locke.  You  can 
never  get  them  to  Baltimore,  and  you  know 
in  what  fearful  peril  they  keep  us." 

"  I  might  as  well  turn  back  if  I  burn 
them,"  said  the  captain.  "  I  take  those 
papers  to  Baltimore,  or  I  die  trying — and  I 
won't  die." 

"  Excuse  the  trouble  I  give  you,  ladies," 
he  said,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  putting 
his  feet  on  another.  "  Will  you  open  the 
hems  of  my  trousers  and  sew  those  papers 
inside?    It  is  a  great  favor." 

We  ripped  each  hem,  folded  the  papers 
inside  as  flat  as  possible,  and  sewed  the  hems 
up  again.  I  had  not  made  over  Dan's  old 
uniform  for  nothing,  and  Milicent  was  always 
a  skilful  needlewoman — our  hems  looked  quite 
natural  and  not  at  all  "  stuffed."  But  we 
137 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

were  so  nervous  that  we  worked  very  slowly, 
for  we  felt  that  a  wrong  stitch  might  cost 
Captain  Locke  his  life. 

He  had  worn  his  trousers  turned  up 
around  the  bottom  to  keep  them  out  of  the 
mud.  When  we  had  finished  he  carefully 
turned  them  back  again,  Mr.  Holliway  look- 
ing on  gloomily. 

"  Now,  ladies,"  said  the  captain  cheer- 
fully, "  we  will  all  retire  and  get  a  good 
night's  rest.  You  have  had  a  hard  day  and 
I  am  sure  you  must  be  tired/' 

"  Aren't  you  going  away? "  we  asked 
anxiously.  "  What  did  you  take  the  papers 
for?" 

He  smiled. 

"  Little  madam,"  he  said,  "  you  had  best 
go  to  bed  and  get  a  good  night's  rest.  That 
is  what  I  am  going  to  do.  Mrs.  Norman, 
make  this  poor  child  go  to  bed.  And  you  will 
promise  me  to  try  to  rest  too,  won't  you?  " 

There  was  a  rap  on  the  door. 


138 


CHAPTER    XIII 

A     LAST     FAREWELL 

Mr.  Holliway  opened  it  to  admit  the 
Dutchman. 

"  Shentlemen,"  he  began  earnestly,  "  tey 
haf  got  te  leetle  Chew  poy  trunk  mit  giffin' 
him  visky,  unt  he  haf  tolt  everyding.  I  pe 
your  vrent.  You  mus'  get  avay  pefore  mit- 
night." 

"  The  little  Jew  knows  nothing  to  tell," 
said  the  captain.  "  His  drunken  babble  is 
not  worth  attention.  We  can  not  leave  my 
sisters." 

"  How  you  help  tern  by  stayin'?  I  gif 
you  my  vort  dat  tey  vill  get  to  Paltimore 
all  right.  I  hates  to  see  tern  Yankees  takes 
you  up  in  mine  house." 

Milicent  and  I  believed  in  the  German. 

So  I  think  did  both  gentlemen  by  this  time, 

but  we  had  come  this  far  under  their  care, 

and  they  were  loath  to  leave  us  unless  en- 

139 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

tirely  convinced  that  it  was  for  our  safety  as 
well  as  their  own.  Mr.  Holliway  was  no  less 
concerned  about  us  than  Captain  Locke  was, 
but  he  took  a  darker  view  of  the  situation. 
He  drew  Locke  aside  and  they  talked  to- 
gether in  low  tones.  I  caught  the  word 
"  reckless  "  and  "  those  papers,"  and  "  a  dis- 
advantage to  them,"  "  safer  without  us." 
When  they  turned  back  to  us  Captain  Locke 
said: 

"  We  leave  the  question  in  your  hands, 
ladies.  Perhaps  we — and  more  particularly  I 
— endanger  you  by  remaining.  But  I  hate 
to  leave  you  alone  this  way,  and  I  am  not 
afraid  of  anything  that  can  happen  to  me. 
If  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  and  we 
were  arrested,  I  have  some  influence  in  the 
North  which  might  still  be  of  benefit  to 
us  all." 

"  Use  it  for  yourself  and  Mr.  Holliway," 
we  said,  "  and  go." 

"  Think  well,  ladies.  You  want  us  to  go 
now,  but  when  we  are  gone  and  you  are  here 
alone,  won't  you  feel  desolate  and  deserted?  " 

"  We  will  only  be  glad  you're  gone,"  I 
said. 

140 


A  Last  Farewell 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  such  a  polite 
speech  in  my  life,"  said  Captain  Locke, 
laughing.  "  Holliway,  I  think  we  had  better 
leave  immediately." 

He  stood  cool  and  smiling,  but  Mr.  Holli- 
way, whose  health  was  not  robust,  and  upon 
whom  the  hardships  of  the  journey  and  the 
excitement  had  told,  was  ghastly.  Not  that 
he  lacked  courage.  He  would  have  stayed  and 
died  for  us,  as  far  as  that  was  concerned;  but 
his  physical  endurance  was  not  great,  and 
from  the  first  he  had  been  oppressed  with  a 
presentiment  of  evil. 

Milicent  had  drawn  Captain  Locke  aside, 
and  was  urging  him  to  go,  as  I  knew,  and,  as 
I  think,  to  destroy  the  papers  which  Holliway 
felt  imperiled  him.  He  gave  her  a  smiling 
negative. 

"  You  must  go  yourself,  and  please  help 
us  make  the  captain  go,"  I  was  saying  to  Mr. 
Holliway. 

"  You  will  have  to  do  that,"  he  replied. 
"  I  have  said  what  I  could.  It  is  madness 
for  us  to  stay,  as  I  am  thoroughly  convinced 
now.  You  would  be  safer  without  us. 
Locke  doesn't  think  so,  but  I  know  it.  His 
141 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

character  and  the  papers  he  carries  increase 
the  danger  for  us  all." 

Captain  Locke  and  Milicent  had  finished 
their  conference. 

"  We  will  go,"  he  said  quietly.  "  A  pen 
and  ink,  my  friend,"  to  the  Dutchman. 

"  Make  haste  and  go,"  we  pleaded. 

But  he  waited  for  the  pen  and  ink. 

"  We  have  time  enough,"  he  said,  con- 
sulting his  watch  very  coolly.  "  It  is  not  yet 
half-past  eleven." 

He  wrote  a  note  and  gave  it  to  the  Dutch- 
man to  be  mailed  that  night. 

"  If  you  get  into  any  trouble,"  he  said  to 
Milicent,  "  telegraph  to  this  address." 

And  he  gave  her  a  slip  of  paper  on  which 
was  written:  "  Gov. ,  Baltimore,  Md." 

"  The  letter  is  to  my  uncle,  and  if  you  are 
in  any  trouble  he  will  help  you  out.  The 
Governor  will  be  advised  of  your  situation, 
and  a  telegram  to  him  will  be  understood." 

"  Good  night,  ladies,  and  au  revoir"  he 
said  gaily,  bowing  over  our  hands.  "  We 
will  meet  in  Baltimore." 

"  I  echo  that,"  said  Mr.  Holliway  with  as- 
sumed cheerfulness.  "  It  has  been  a  great 
142 


A  Last  Farewell 

pleasure  and  privilege  to  know  you,  ladies. 
With  all  its  shadows,  this  journey  will  always 
be  one  of  my  sweetest  memories." 

We  might  never  see  them  again.  We 
knew  it  as  we  looked  into  Locke's  bonnie 
blue  eyes  and  Holliway's  dark  sad  ones. 
They  had  been  our  brave  and  gentle  knights, 
shielding  us  and  enduring  all  the  hardships 
cheerfully.  One  of  them  was  weaker,  we 
knew,  because  he  had  given  his  blanket  to 
keep  us  warm.  We  looked  bravely  back  into 
the  two  brave  faces  that  looked  into  ours — 
one  sign  of  faltering  and  they  would  not 
leave  us. 

"  I  will  say  a  '  Hail  Mary '  for  each  of 
you  every  night,"  I  said. 

"  I,  too,"  said  Milicent  softly. 

"  Thank  you,"  there  was  a  quiver  in  each 
voice  now.  "  We  will  try  to  deserve  your 
prayers,  dear  ladies." 

Then  they  bowed  themselves  out  with 
smiling  faces.  One  of  them  we  never  saw 
again. 


143 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE    LITTLE    JEW    BOY    AND    THE    PROVOST'S 
DEPUTY 

The  Dutchman  went  with  theni  to  show 
them  the  way  he  said  they  must  take.  His 
wife  came  in  and  gossiped  with  us. 

According  to  her  account,  it  was  a  miracle 
that  we  had  passed  through  the  provost's 
hands  as  well  as  we  had. 

"  If  de  vimmins  had  peen  dere,  dey  vould 
haf  pult  your  close  off,  unt  dey  vould  haf 
search  you  all  ofer.  I  ton't  know  as  you  haf 
anyding  you  not  vant  dem  to  see,  but  if  you 
haf  anyding,  tey  pe  zhure  to  fint  it.  Te  vim- 
mins tat  haf  to  pe  dere  to-tay  vas  gone  avay 
somevare.  If  she  had  peen  dere,  you  vas  haf 
harter  times  tan  you  vas  haf." 

I  thought  with  a  shudder  of  our  muffs 
and  satchels,  our  pictures  in  Confederate  uni- 
form, and  those  papers. 

"  Mine  man  say  some  volks  vas  arrested 
144 


The  Boy  and  the  Provost's  Deputy 

town  te  river  to-tay.  Dere  vas  dree  laties 
unt  von  shentleman.  Tey  dry  to  cross  at  de 
Boint  of  Vrocks  [Point  of  Rocks]  unt  tey 
vas  took  up  unt  sent  pack." 

"  What  were  their  names? "  we  asked 
eagerly. 

We  remembered  that  the  Otis  party  con- 
sisted of  three  ladies  and  one  gentleman.  We 
had  kept  in  sight  of  their  ambulance  for  some 
time.  But  at  the  parting  of  our  ways,  when 
they  had  taken  one  road  and  we  another,  our 
driver  had  said:  "They  are  going  to  try  to 
get  across  at  the  Point  of  Rocks,  and  they'll 
sure  be  turned  back  or  took  up,  one." 

"  I  ton't  know  vat  dere  names,"  said  the 
Dutchwoman.  "Mine  man  vill  know.  He 
forgets  notding." 

When  he  came  in  he  thought  a  little,  and 
then  he  said  he  thought  the  name  was 
"  Odis."  So  we  had  been  luckier  than  we 
thought  in  the  chance  that  prevented  us  from 
joining  their  party. 

The  old  German  had  directed  our  friends 

as  best  he  could,  and  started  them  on  their 

way.     They  were  to  keep  to  the  woods  and 

walk  to  Frederick,  from  where,  he  thought, 

145 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

they  might  reach  Baltimore.  He  told  us  that 
they  had  not  gone  away  immediately  after 
leaving  us,  although  he  had  urged  them  to 
do  so.  They  had  said  they  wouldn't  go 
away  until  they  saw  how  we  took  being  left 
alone.  They  had  gone  around  to  the  win- 
dow of  the  room  in  which  we  were  sitting, 
and  had  spied  upon  us.  When  they  saw  us 
gossiping  with  the  old  woman,  they  had 
gone  off  satisfied  that  we  would  not  break 
down  after  their  departure. 

"  Tey  vas  not  so  vraid  vor  her,"  he  said, 
indicating  Milicent.  "  It  vas  you,  te  leetle 
matam,  as  he  call  you,  dat  he  vas  vraid  vor. 
He  vraid  you  vould  cry  pecause  you  vas  so 
leetle,  unt  pecause  you  vas  so  ver'  younk.  I 
ask  him  vat  he  do  if  you  cry,  unt  I  dry  to 
make  him  come  avay,  unt  he  say:  '  If  she  cry 
I  von't  go.  I  vill  go  in  tat  room  unt  I  vill 
dake  her  up  in  mine  arms  unt  I  vill  not  stop 
until  I  put  her  safe  in  Captain  Grey's  arms! 
Dot  is  vot  I  vill  do.'  He  titn't  leaf  you  off," 
to  Milicent,  "  put  he  dort  you  pe  mo'  prave." 

If  he  had  been  at  the  window  then  he 
would  have  seen  tears  in  our  eyes.  But  I 
bore  a  grudge. 

146 


The  Boy  and  the  Provost's  Deputy 

"  Milicent,"  I  said,  as  soon  as  we  were 
alone,  "  I  don't  see  why  people  should  make 
of  me  just  the  exception  that  they  always  do. 
I  may  be  a  little  younger,  but  I  am  married, 
and  I  have  got  just  as  much  sense  about  some 
things  and  I'm  just  as  brave  as  you  are.  I'm 
a  soldier's  wife,  the  wife  of  a  Confederate 
officer.  I  wonder  how  I  have  behaved  that 
everybody  expects  me  to  be  a  coward." 

And  Milicent  comforted  me. 

The  next  morning  an  orderly  rapped  at 
the  door  of  the  German's  house  and  asked 
for  us. 

The  German  answered. 

"  Tell  the  ladies,"  with  an  emphasis  on 
the  word,  "  the  provost  says  they  can  go  on. 
The  train  leaves  in  fifteen  minutes.  They  will 
find  their  bagagge  at  the  station.  Here  are 
their  keys." 

"  You  see  it  is  veil  tat  te  shentlemen  tit 
not  vait  vor  bermission,"  said  the  German  as 
we  hurried  into  our  wraps. 

We  heard  afterward  that  following  our 

departure  a  sergeant-at-arms  called  for  the 

"  shentlemen."     Our  train  was  late  coming 

in.    As  we  stood  on  the  platform  waiting  we 

147 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

saw  that  wretched  little  Jew  boy  fooling 
around  and  watching  us.  We  pretended  not 
to  see  him.  Suddenly  I  felt  a  tremor  in  Mili- 
cent's  arm  which  was  linked  in  mine. 

"  Do  you  see  who  is  on  the  platform  talk- 
ing with  the  little  Jew  boy?  No,  don't  turn 
your  head — don't  look  suddenly — don't  look 
at  all.  It  is  the  provost's  deputy  who  didn't 
believe  in  us  yesterday." 

Oh,  if  the  train  would  only  come,  and  we 
were  on  it  and  gone!  As  it  rolled  up  beside 
the  platform  we  had  to  restrain  ourselves 
from  getting  on  it  too  eagerly.  But  we  were 
at  last  in  our  seats;  the  whistle  blew,  and  the 
train  moved  out  of  the  station. 

The  station  was  behind  us,  out  of  sight, 
and  we  were  leaning  back  enjoying  ourselves, 
when  Milicent  glanced  behind  her.  I  was 
looking  out  of  the  window  when  I  felt  her 
hand  on  my  arm. 

"  Don't  look  suddenly.  But  when  you 
can,  glance  behind  us." 

Three  seats  behind  us  sat  the  provost's 

deputy.    He  was  reading  a  paper,  or,  rather, 

watching  us  over  a  paper  which  he  held  up 

before  him.    He  kept  us  under  close  obser- 

148 


The  Boy  and  the  Provost's  Deputy 

vation  the  whole  way.  We  had  no  oppor- 
tunity to  consult  about  the  difficulties  of  the 
situation,  but  we  felt  that  we  were  to  elude 
our  shadow  in  Baltimore  or  not  at  all. 
Carriages  stood  thick  around  the  depot. 
Drivers  were  cracking  their  whips  and  im- 
portuning the  public  for  patronage.  We 
stepped  off  the  platform  into  the  midst  of 
them,  got  to  haggling  about  prices,  and 
found  ourselves  mixed  up  in  a  lot  of  car- 
riages, the  yelling  and  screaming  drivers 
having  closed  up  behind  us  around  the  plat- 
form to  which  they  had  turned  their  atten- 
tion. There  we  saw  the  deputy's  hat  revolv- 
ing rapidly,  as  if  he  were  turning  himself 
about  to  catch  sight  of  us.  Chance  stood  our 
friend.  We  happened  to  stand  between  two 
carriages,  the  doors  of  which  hung  open.  A 
party  of  two  ladies  stepped  into  one.  In- 
stantly we  took  the  other. 

"Drive  fast  to  No.  —  Charles  Street," 
Milicent  said  to  the  driver.  Several  car- 
riages rolled  out  of  the  depot  with  our  own, 
and  before  we  reached  Mrs.  Harris's  we  felt 
that  we  had  escaped  the  deputy.  Once  with 
mother  and  Bobby  we  forgot  him. 
149 


CHAPTER   XV 

I    FALL    INTO    THE    HANDS    OF   THE    ENEMY 

Mrs.  Harris  kept  a  select  and  fashion- 
able boarding-house.  There  were  many  reg- 
ular  boarders  and  a  stream  of  people  com- 
ing and  going  all  the  time.  She  was  a 
Southern  sympathizer,  and  her  house  was  a 
hotbed  of  sedition  and  intrigue  for  both  sides. 
Among  her  guests  were  three  Yankee  offi- 
cers, whom  I  made  up  my  mind — or,  rather, 
my  mind  needed  no  making  up — to  dislike. 
Uniform  and  all,  I  objected  to  them.  The 
day  after  we  came  Mrs.  Harris  was  chatting 
with  us  in  mother's  room. 

"  I  must  introduce  you  to  those  Federal 
officers  who  are  in  the  house,"  she  remarked. 

"  I  beg  you  will  not !  "  I  replied  indig- 
nantly. "  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
them." 

"  Then  you  will  make  a  grave  mistake,  my 
child.  That  course  would  betray  you  at 
150 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

once.  You've  put  your  head  into  the  lion's 
mouth,  and  prudence  is  the  better  policy  until 
you  get  it  out  again.  If  you  meet  these 
officers  and  are  civil  to  them  they  may  be  of 
assistance  to  you  when  you  want  to  go 
back." 

Accordingly,  when  our  household  met  as 
usual  in  the  parlors  that  evening,  Captain 
Hosmer,  Assistant  Adjutant-General  William 
D.  Whipple,  of  Schenck's  command,  and 
Major  Brooks — also,  I  think,  of  Schenck's 
command — were  presented  to  me. 

Major  Brooks  had  such  a  keen,  satirical 
way  of  looking  at  me  that  I  immediately  took 
a  violent  prejudice  against  him,  though  I 
tried  hard  to  conceal  it.  Schenck's  adjutant 
I  did  not  like  much  better.  Captain  Hosmer 
was  objectionable  on  general  principles  as  a 
Yankee,  but  he  was  really  a  handsome  fellow 
and  a  most  charming  gentleman,  and  though 
I  had  hard  work  overcoming  my  prejudices 
sufficiently  to  be  quite  civil  at  first,  I  ended  by 
becoming  warmly  attached  to  him.  My  im- 
pulse was  to  avoid  these  gentlemen  and  to 
show  my  colors  in  a  passive  way.  I  say  in  a 
passive  way,  because  anything  approaching 
11  151 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

discourtesy  Dan  would  have  condemned.  On 
duty,  he  would  have  shot  a  Yankee  down 
quickly  enough;  off  duty,  he  would  never 
have  failed  in  politeness  to  a  gentleman  in 
any  uniform.  As  I  could  not  well  appear  here 
as  a  Confederate  officer's  wife,  I  was  intro- 
duced to  these  gentlemen  as  Miss  Duncan. 
The  day  after  our  arrival  we  mailed  Captain 
Locke's  picture,  which  he  had  given  us  for 
the  purpose,  to  his  sister  in  Harrisburg,  and 
called  to  see  Mr.  Holliway's  mother  and  sis- 
ters. They  were  charming  women,  and  en- 
tertained us  in  true  Baltimore  fashion. 

Indeed,  I  soon  found  myself  in  a  whirl  of 
gaiety.  Mrs.  Harris's  house  was  a  merry  one. 
Of  course,  being  in  Baltimore,  its  politics 
were  mixed,  as  we  have  said,  but  as  far  as 
social  position  and  culture  were  concerned, 
the  guests  were  above  reproach.  The  par- 
lors in  the  evening  reminded  one  of  those  of 
a  fashionable  pleasure  resort. 

Next  door  was  another  boarding-house. 
Mother's  windows  overlooked  the  entrance, 
and  we  amused  ourselves — according  to 
boarding-house  custom  and  privilege — by 
watching  our  own  and  our  neighbors'  callers 
152 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

and  guests,  and  by  nicknaming  them.  There 
was  one  of  the  next-door  boarders  who  enter- 
tained us  greatly.  We  dubbed  him  "  the 
Professor."  He  had  a  funny  way  of  wearing 
his  green  goggles  as  if  they  were  about  to 
fall  off  his  nose.  He  had  long,  snaky  curls 
which  looked  very  greasy  and  glossy,  and  he 
walked  with  a  slight  stoop,  using  a  gold- 
headed  cane;  and  he  always  carried  a  book 
under  his  arm. 

In  our  own  house  were  two  ladies  who 
afforded  us  much  amusement.  They  were 
sisters,  as  Captain  Hosmer  took  occasion  to 
inform  me  early  in  our  acquaintance,  but 
they  were  politically  so  opposed  to  each  other 
that  they  did  not  speak. 

Mrs.  Bonds  was  a  black  Republican,  Mrs. 
Lineman  a  red-hot  rebel.  This  latter  fact 
we  discovered  by  degrees.  Women  did  not 
gossip  in  those  days — not  to  talk  was  a  neces- 
sary evil — very  evil  and  very  necessary  in  a 
boarding-house  of  mixed  politics  in  Balti- 
more during  war  times. 

Mrs.  Harris  kept  a  private  parlor  for  her- 
self and  daughters,  and  here  we  poor  rebels 
met  every  now  and  then  with  a  little  less  re- 
153 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

straint,  though  even  here  we  had  to  be  very 
careful.    One  day  a  note  was  brought  me. 

"  Happy  greetings,  dear  friends !  Can  you 
arrange  without  inconvenience  to  yourselves 
for  me  to  call,  and  will  you  allow  me  that 
pleasure?  Do  not  hesitate  to  decline  if  you 
feel  so  disposed.     I  will  understand. 

"  L." 

There  was  no  other  signature,  but  we 
knew  the  hand.  Thank  God!  He  was  alive 
and  well!  We  took  the  note  to  Mrs.  Harris. 
Of  course  we  would  see  him  if  we  could  make 
a  way.  After  a  little  consultation  it  was  ar- 
ranged that  we  receive  him  in  the  little 
parlor  upstairs.  We  addressed  an  envelope 
to  ourselves,  put  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  in  it, 
sealed  it,  and  enclosed  it  in  a  note  to  the 
captain.  The  latter  we  did  not  know  how  to 
address;  we  were  merely  to  give  it  to  his  mes- 
senger, who  was  waiting.     We  wrote: 

"  Delighted.  Come  to  side  entrance  at 
half-past  eight;  present  enclosed  and  you  will 
be  shown  up. 

"  N.  &  M." 
154 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

At  half-past  eight  we  were  waiting  in 
Mrs.  Harris's  private  parlor — there  were  sev- 
eral ladies  there  beside  ourselves.  Of  all 
nights,  why  couldn't  they  keep  away  this 
night? — when  Mrs.  Harris's  maid  brought 
up  the  envelope  we  had  addressed  to  our- 
selves. 

"  Show  him  up,"  we  said. 

Why  in  the  world  wouldn't  those  other 
women  go?  And  would  there  be  any  callers 
in  the  private  parlor  to-night? 

"  Dr.  Moreau! "  announced  Mrs.  Har- 
ris's maid. 

Into  the  room  walked  the  "  Professor," 
green  goggles  and  all.  Who  in  the  world 
was  he  coming  to  see?  What  was  he  doing 
here  any  way?  And  on  this  night  of  all 
nights  when  we  were  looking  for  Captain 
Locke  and  wishing  for  as  few  witnesses  as 
possible!  Through  the  open  door  behind  the 
"  Professor,"  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mrs. 
Bonds  out  in  the  hall,  following  him  with 
curious  eyes.  If  we  could  only  slip  down- 
stairs and  keep  the  captain  from  coming  up 
to-night!  And  why  didn't  the  girl  bring  the 
captain  in?  Milicent  was  rising  to  go  out 
155 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

into  the  hall,  when  the  "  Professor,"  having 
glanced  around  the  room,  approached  us. 

"  I  was  invited  to  call  on  some  ladies  here 
this  evening?  Am  I  in  the  wrong  room?  " 
said  a  perfectly  strange  voice,  the  voice  you 
would  expect  to  hear  from  a  fossil. 

We  looked  up  in  confusion.  If  we  could 
only  get  him  out  of  the  way  before  the  cap- 
tain entered!  He  waited  while  we  pondered 
how  to  answer. 

"  What  ladies  do  you  wish  to  see? "  I 
asked. 

"  Well,  this  is  good!  Little  madam,  may 
I  take  this  seat  beside  you?  " 

He  dropped  into  the  chair  between  us  and 
we  caught  for  an  instant  his  old  merry  laugh, 
"  nipped  in  the  bud,"  it  is  true,  for  we  gave 
him  a  warning  glance.  Mrs.  Harris  was  con- 
siderate and  tactful,  and  we  not  only  had  our 
corner  to  ourselves,  but  attention  and  obser- 
vation diverted  from  us  as  much  as  possible. 
We  were  much  amused  at  Captain  Locke's 
"  make-up,"  and  he  was  evidently  very  proud 
of  it. 

"  It  must  be  very  clever  for  your  eyes  not 
to  have  seen  through  it,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
156 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

been  looking  up  at  your  window  and  watch- 
ing you  every  day.  I  saw,  too,  that  you 
made  merry  at  my  expense.  It  was  a  great 
temptation  to  speak  to  you  many  times, 
but  I  didn't  want  to  make  advances  nor 
to  ask  permission  to  call  until  I  knew 
something  about  how  the  land  lay  over 
here." 

"  You  don't  know  how  anxious  we  have 
been  about  you,  or  how  glad  and  thankful 
we  are  to  see  you,"  we  assured  him.  "  We 
have  been  very  uneasy  at  not  hearing  from 
you.    Where  is  Mr.  Holliway?  " 

"  God  knows ! "  he  answered  gravely. 
"  He  was  afraid  to  follow  my  fortunes,  I 
think.  He  left  me  at  Frederick.  He  ought 
to  be  here  by  now,  but  if  he  is  he  is  keeping 
very  close." 

"  He  is  not  here,"  we  answered.  "  We 
have  been  to  see  his  mother  and  sister,  and 
they  know  nothing  of  him." 

"  Then  something  is  wrong.  He  had  an 
idea  that  we  might  be  tracked  to  Frederick 
very  easily  from  Berlin,  and  from  Frederick 
to  this  place  if  we  came  by  the  direct  route; 
so  he  branched  off  into  West  Virginia,  in- 
157 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

tending  to  reach  Baltimore  by  a  more  round- 
about route  than  mine.  Poor  Holliway!  he 
was  not  well,  and  he  was  nervous  and  un- 
strung over  this  trip  from  the  first.  He  felt 
that  I  was  reckless  and  that  I  was  throwing 
away  my  own  chance  and  his." 

Some  one  in  the  room  came  near  us  and 
we  returned  to  generalities.  Very  soon  after 
Captain  Locke  made  his  adieux,  promising 
to  call  again  when  we  could  arrange  it. 

Captain  Hosmer  had  sought  opportuni- 
ties for  showing  special  courtesies  to  me,  but 
I  had  rather  repelled  him.  He  was  good 
enough,  however,  to  ignore  my  bad  manners 
and  to  persist  in  turning  my  music  for  me. 
We  had  dances  very  often  in  the  evenings,  I 
playing  the  same  tunes  for  folks  to  dance  by 
that  I  played  for  the  Prussians  and  that  I  play 
for  my  children.  One  night,  I  had  the  au- 
dacity to  rattle  off  the  Virginia  reel,  and  they 
danced  it  with  spirit,  every  Yankee  of  them. 
My  fingers  were  just  itching  to  play  Dixie, 
and  I  don't  know  what  foolhardiness  I  might 
have  been  guilty  of  if  Captain  Hosmer,  who 
was  turning  my  music,  had  not  bent  over  me 
and  said: 

158 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

"  I  would  like  to  have  a  little  private  talk 
with  you,  Miss  Duncan.  I  know  who  you 
are.  You  are  from  the  South  and  you  have 
run  the  blockade.  Your  position  is  not  free 
from  danger.  You  are  suspected.  Pray  be 
careful.  When  you  have  finished  this,  go  up- 
stairs and  I  will  follow  you." 

His  manner  was  so  serious  that  it  took 
all  the  saucy  daring  out  of  me.  Perhaps 
it  saved  me  from  playing  Dixie.  As  soon 
as  I  could  do  so  without  attracting  ob- 
servation, I  got  Milicent  to  take  my 
place,  and  went  up-stairs  to  the  private 
parlor. 

I  had  hardly  taken  my  seat  when  he 
came  in. 

"  I  was  sorry  to  attack  you  so  suddenly," 
he  said,  "  but  you  were  so  shy  of  me  that  it 
was  my  only  chance." 

I  had  learned  to  like  and  to  trust  him;  he 
was  honest  and  kind,  and  I  told  him  my  sit- 
uation frankly.  Of  course  I  didn't  explain 
Captain  Locke. 

"  It  is  not  so  bad  as  it  might  be,"  he  said, 
"  But  you  must  have  a  care  about  your  asso- 
ciates. People  in  this  house  are  always  more 
159 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

or  less  under  observation,  and  arrest  on 
charge  of  treason  is  not  an  unknown  thing 
in  it." 

"  I  am  married — "  When  I  came  to  that 
part  of  my  confession  the  captain  looked  sur- 
prised indeed. 

"  Didn't  you  guess  from  the  dignity  I 
have  displayed  that  I  was  a  matron?  " 

"  I  never  dreamed  it !  I  don't  mean  that 
you  were  not  dignified,"  he  added  quickly, 
and  in  some  confusion. 

"  My  husband  is  a  staff-officer  in  the  rebel 
army,"  I  added  proudly. 

"Lucky  fellow!" 

"  I  think  he  is  a  lucky  fellow  to  be  a  staff- 
officer  in  the  rebel  army." 

"  To  be  your  husband,  I  meant." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  would  agree  with  you 
there!  "  We  were  on  a  subject  very  interest- 
ing to  me  now. 

"  I  will  show  you  his  picture  in  the  morn- 
ing," I  volunteered. 

"  Better  not,"  Captain  Hosmer  said 
promptly. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  shown  how  hurt  I 
was,  for  he  added  quickly:  "  Of  course  I'll 
1 60 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

be  glad  to  see  his  picture.  Don't  forget  to 
bring  it  down  at  breakfast." 

But  he  had  frozen  me  for  the  time  being. 
I  could  not  talk  about  Dan  to  him  when  I 
saw  it  bored  him  to  listen,  so  we  went  back 
to  the  original  subject  of  our  conversation. 
Among  other  persons  he  spoke  of  Mrs.  Line- 
man. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  inclined  to  form  an 
intimacy  there.  Mrs.  Lineman  is  in  perfect 
sympathy  with  the  South,  but,  as  you  know, 
her  sister  is  not.  They  do  not  speak  now,  but 
family  differences  are  frequently  made  up. 
Then  confidences  ensue.  And  Mrs.  Bonds  is 
really  a  political  spy  for  the  North.  She 
thinks  the  mystery  about  you  is  deeper  than 
it  is,  and  you  will  do  well  to  be  on  your 
guard  before  her  and  my  brothers  in  arms 
whom  you  meet  in  this  house.  Major  Brooks 
already  has  suspicions  about  you." 

"  I  don't  like  him,"  I  said  viciously. 

"  Disguise  that  fact  a  little  better  if  you 
can.  I  don't  think  any  of  the  gentlemen 
whom  you  meet  here  are  malicious,  or  that 
they  will  go  out  of  their  way  to  harm 
you,  but  it  is  good  policy  to  temper  your 
161 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

cold  civility  toward  them  with  a  little  more 
warmth." 

"  You  are  very  good,"  I  said  humbly, 
"  and  I  really  mean  to  act  according  to  your 
advice." 

He  smiled.  "  You  are  not  good  at  play- 
ing the  hypocrite,  are  you?  " 

"  I  must  improve.  But  I  really  must  tell 
you — I  don't  need  to  be  a  hypocrite  with  you, 
you  know — I  believe  Major  Brooks  is  ma- 
licious." 

He  laughed  outright.  "  Be  careful  not 
to  offend  him,  then.  Ah,  I  am  afraid  my  first 
lesson  in  diplomacy  will  only  have  skin-deep 
results." 

The  next  morning  I  did  not  forget  Dan's 
picture.  I  brought  it  down  with  me,  and 
slipped  it  into  Captain  Hosmer's  hand  as  I 
passed  behind  him  to  my  seat  at  the  breakfast 
table.  I  was  very  much  pleased  later  when  he 
told  me  what  a  fine  fellow  he  thought  Dan 
must  be,  and  that  he  thought  the  picture  very 
handsome.  Then  I  talked  about  Dan  again 
until  he  was  bored — when  I  shut  up.  After 
this  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  Captain  Hosmer. 
He  was  always  so  thoroughly  well-bred  that 
162 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

his  attentions  were  very  agreeable  to  me  in 
spite  of  his  uniform,  and  I  formed  a  warm 
personal  friendship  and  attachment  for  him. 
We  were  also  seeing  a  good  deal  of  Captain 
Locke. 

I  thought  him  very  reckless  in  visiting  us 
as  he  did,  and  I  told  him  so  frankly.  He  had 
doffed  his  disguise,  wig  and  all,  and  appeared 
now  every  day,  and  sometimes  oftener,  at 
Mrs.  Harris's  in  his  own  proper  person, 
dressed  in  citizen's  clothes.  He  came  openly 
to  the  parlor  in  the  daytime  immediately 
after  breakfast  or  lunch;  and  he  was  always 
there  after  dinner  when  the  parlors  were 
thronged.  Several  times  he  had  joined  the 
dance,  selecting,  by  the  way,  Mrs.  Bonds  for 
a  partner  more  than  once.  In  fact,  he  singled 
this  lady  out  for  a  number  of  pleasant  cour- 
tesies. I  could  not  keep  him  out  of  the  way 
of  the  Yankee  officers,  and  Major  Brooks  was 
always  starting  up  at  us  somewhere  like  a 
Banquo's  ghost.  His  eyes  got  sharper  and 
sharper  until  I  thought  they  would  cut  me  in 
two.  In  halls  and  by-ways  I  was  always  com- 
ing upon  him  and  always  getting  out  of  his 
way,  and  I  was  always  surprising  a  cynical 
163 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

little  grin  on  his  face.  One  day  I  encoun- 
tered him  on  the  first  landing  of  the  stairway, 
squarely  face  to  face.  He  addressed  me, 
wishing  me  good  morning  gruffly,  and  stand- 
ing in  such  a  position  that  I  could  not  pass 
him  without  rudeness  unless  he  moved  to  one 
side.    He  did  not  move,  and  I  was  at  bay. 

"  I  know  who  you  are,  Miss  Duncan,"  he 
said  mischievously.  "  You  are  a  good  rebel 
now,  aren't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  good  rebel,  as  you  call  it. 
I'm  a  Virginian — and  a  rebel  like  Washing- 
ton was,  and  like  Lee  is." 

"  I  thought  so.  And  you  ran  the  block- 
ade to  get  here." 

"  That's  so,  too.    I  got  across  at  Berlin." 

"  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  how." 

I  told  him  how.  I  sat  down  on  the  stairs 
to  talk,  and  my  enemy  sat  down  beside  me. 
Captain  Hosmer  came  in,  looked  up,  and  saw 
the  confidential  and  apparently  friendly  sit- 
uation, laughed,  and  went  on  to  breakfast. 

"  I  don't  call  that  running  the  blockade," 

he  said.     "  I  call  that  storming  it.     I  didn't 

think  it  possible  to  cross  at  Berlin  or,  indeed, 

at  any  other  point.     Our  line  at  the  Poto- 

164 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

mac  has  been  greatly  strengthened  and  the 
rules  are  very  rigid  and  inspection  most  thor- 
ough." 

"  I  managed  to  cross  at  Berlin  because 
you  had  such  a  nice  provost  marshal  there. 
He  knew  two  little  women  couldn't  do  any 
harm." 

"Humph!  He  doesn't  know  women  as 
I  do,  then!" 

"  Perhaps  he  had  always  known  only  very 
lovely  ladies,"  I  said  with  the  softness  of  a 
purring  cat. 

He  grinned.  "  You'll  be  wanting  to  run 
back  soon,  I  dare  say." 

"  I  reckon  I  will.  I  wish  you'd  help  me. 
Can't  you  tell  me  how?  " 

He  laughed  outright.  "You  are  cool!" 
he  said. 

"  You  know  what  my  duty  is?  "  he  added 
after  a  pause. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  To  fight  on  the  right 
side,  but  I'm  afraid  you'll  never  do  that. 
Now,  I  have  been  wanting  to  play  Dixie 
ever  since  I've  been  here,  and  I'm  afraid  of 
nobody  but  you.  To-night  I  mean  to  play 
it."  But  I  did  not.  That  afternoon  a  card 
165 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

was  brought  up  to  Milicent  and  me.  Major 
Littlebob,  U.  S.  A.,  was  sorry  to  disturb  us, 
but  would  we  please  step  down  a  minute. 
"  Major  Brooks  came  in  with  him,"  said  the 
servant  who  brought  the  message. 

"  Major  Brooks  is  going  to  have  us  ar- 
rested," I  thought  in  terror.  Milicent  also 
was  frightened  by  the  message  and  by  a  call 
from  an  unknown  officer  of  the  United 
States  army  who  came  accompanied  by 
Major  Brooks.  Mother  followed  us  in  fear 
and  trembling  to  the  parlor  door  as  we  went 
in  to  behold — Milicent's  own  curly-headed 
Bobby,  all  rigged  out  in  Major  Brooks's  regi- 
mentals! There  he  was,  all  swallowed  up  in 
sash,  sword,  and  hat  of  a  United  States  major 
of  infantry;  beside  him  was  the  major,  laugh- 
ing merrily.  Milicent,  in  her  relief,  bent  over 
and  kissed  again  and  again  the  fairest,  soft- 
est, cutest,  sweetest  Major  Littlebob  that 
ever  wore  the  regimentals  of  the  U.  S.  A.; 
and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  after  this  we 
were  never  again  afraid  of  Major  Brooks. 

"  So,  the  whole  purpose  of  your  running 
the  blockade  was  a  visit  to  your  mother?" 
Major  Brooks  had  asked. 
166 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

"  And  to  accompany  my  sister.  And — to 
buy  a  few  things — needles,  pins,  and  so  forth," 
I  added  in  confusion. 

Again  the  major  laughed  at  my  expense. 
Should  I  confide  the  Confederate  uniform 
to  him  and  Captain  Hosmer?  I  decided-  to 
draw  the  line  at  this,  as  I  had  drawn  it  at 
Captain  Locke.  Of  course,  Captain  Locke's 
story  was  his,  not  mine,  and  the  uniform — 
well,  the  uniform  was  Dan's,  or,  rather,  I 
hoped  it  would  be.  It  was  never  out  of  my 
mind.  I  would  have  failed  in  half  my  mis- 
sion if  I  did  not  buy  it  and  get  it  across  the 
Potomac  to  Dan.  To  buy  shoes,  gloves,  rib- 
bons, etc.,  was  an  easy  matter,  but  to  buy 
a  Confederate  uniform  in  Yankeeland,  that 
was  a  more  delicate  affair.  It  was  Captain 
Locke  who  helped  me  out.  He  told  me, 
where  I  could  buy  it,  and  offered  to  get  it  fori 
me  himself,  but  he  was  taking  so  many  risks 
on  his  own  account  that  I  was  determined 
he  should  take  none  on  mine.  He  directed 
me  to  a  tailoring  establishment  on  the  corner 
of  Charles  and  St.  Paul's  Streets.  The  head 
of  this  establishment  sympathized  with  the 
South  and  had  supplied  many  Southern  uni- 
"  167 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

forms,  and  his  store  had  a  convenient  double 
entrance,  one  on  St.  Paul's  and  one  on 
Charles  Street.  One  morning  I  went  in  at 
the  Charles  Street  entrance.  I  had  chosen  an 
early  hour,  and  I  found  no  one  in  but  the 
tailor. 

"  I  want  to  buy  a  Confederate  uniform," 
I  said.    "  Captain  Locke  referred  me " 

"  Walk  straight  on  out  at  the  other 
door,"  he  whispered.  "  I  see  two  soldiers 
coming  in  from  the  Charles  Street  side." 

Without  looking  behind  me  I  walked 
straight  on  as  if  I  had  merely  passed  through 
the  store  to  get  to  the  other  sidewalk.  I 
heard  some  one  coming  rapidly  behind  me, 
and  then  I  was  joined  by  Captain  Hosmer. 

"  What  are  you  in  such  a  hurry  for?  "  he 
asked.  "  Wait  a  minute  and  I  can  walk 
home  with  you.  I  have  a  commission  to  ex- 
ecute back  here." 

Accordingly  I  returned  to  the  store  with 
him,  was  introduced  to  the  friend  accompa- 
nying him,  and  after  a  few  moments  walked 
home  between  the  two.  But  the  tailor  had 
given  me  a  hint — I  was  to  come  still  earlier 
next  day. 

168 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

The  next  morning,  however,  he  signaled 
me  to  pass  on  as  I  was  about  to  enter.  At 
last  one  morning  I  caught  him  alone  long 
enough  to  get  my  uniform. 

"  I  have  to  be  very  careful  lately,"  he 
apologized  for  waving  me  off  the  previous 
day.  "  These  Yankees  suspect  me  and  are 
always  on  the  lookout.  Now  we  will  get  the 
uniform  in  a  hurry.  I  have  several  pieces 
of  fine  Confederate  cloth  just  in  that  I  will 
show  you.    Is  your  husband  a  private?  " 

"  Oh,  no-o!  "  I  exclaimed  indignantly. 

"  I  thought  not,"  he  said  suavely. 
"  What  is  his  rank?  " 

"  He  is  a  captain  of  cavalry  now.  That  is 
—he  was  when  I  left  home.  But  I  haven't 
heard  from  him  since.  He  may  be  major  or 
colonel  by  now.  Can't  you  fix  up  a  uniform 
that  would  do  for  him  if  he  is  a  captain  or  a 
colonel  or  a  major  when  I  get  back,  or — that 
would  do  for  a  general?" 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  madam.  Very  wise 
of  you  to  think  of  that." 

He  showed  me  several  pieces  of  very  fine 
and  beautiful  cloth  of  Confederate  gray,  and 
I  made  my  selection. 

169 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  The  question  is,  how  are  you  to  get  it 
across  the  line.  In  what  way  will  you  carry 
it?" 

"  Ah,  that  I  don't  know.  Captain  Locke 
advised  me  to  consult  you." 

The  tailor,  who  seemed  to  have  had  a  lib- 
eral experience  in  such  matters,  considered 
for  a  moment. 

"  Are  other  ladies  going  with  you?  " 

"  My  mother." 

"  It  is  easy  then.  I  will  cut  this  cloth 
into  lengths  that  will  be  all  right  for  the 
tailor  who  makes  the  uniform.  You  and 
your  mother  can  make  it  into  two  Balmo- 
ral skirts.  That's  the  way  you  get  your 
cloth  home.  Now  for  the  buttons  and  gold 
lace.  Will  you  travel  in  the  wrap  you  have 
on?  " 

"  In  one  like  it;  I  shall  pack  this  in  my 
trunk.  The  inspectors  will  not  be  so  likely 
to  condemn  this  if  they  find  it  in  a  trunk  as 
they  would  be  to  condemn  a  new  one.  So  I 
will  get  a  new  cloak  South;  mother  will  wear 
another." 

"  I  see."  He  was  impressed  with  the 
scheme  and  made  a  mental  note  of  it.  "  Send 
170 


I  Fall  into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 

me  your  cloaks  and  I'll  fix  the  buttons  all 
right." 

Cloaks  of  the  period  were  long,  sacque- 
like  affairs,  double-breasted  and  with  two 
rows  of  buttons.  The  tailor  changed  the  but- 
tons on  our  cloaks  for  Confederate  brass  but- 
tons covered  with  wadding,  and  then  with 
cloth  like  the  wrap.  The  gold  lace  was  to  be 
folded  flat  and  smooth.  Mother  was  to  rip 
the  lining  from  the  bottom  of  her  satchel,  lay 
the  lace  on  the  bottom,  and  carefully  paste 
the  lining  back.  We  wanted  to  take  Dan 
some  flannel  shirts,  and  again  fashion  favored 
us.  Ladies  wore  wide  plaid  scarfs  passed 
around  their  necks  and  falling  in  long  ends 
in  front.  We  got  seven  yards  of  fine  soft 
flannel  in  a  stylish  plaid  and  cut  it  in  two 
lengths.  Mother,  being  quite  tall,  could 
wear  a  longer  scarf  than  myself,  so,  between 
us,  we  managed  to  carry  around  our  necks 
two  good  shirts  for  Dan. 


171 


CHAPTER    XVI 

THE   FLOWER    OF    CHIVALRY 

In  the  meantime  we  were  growing  more 
and  more  uneasy  about  Captain  Locke.  We 
felt  that  he  was  suspected  and  covertly 
watched,  but  he  laughed  at  our  fears. 

He  and  I  had  begun  to  discuss  ways  and 
means  of  getting  back  to  Virginia.  One  day, 
as  usual,  he  was  sitting  beside  me  in  the 
parlor  after  dinner,  and,  as  usual,  we  were 
talking  together  in  low  tones,  and  again,  as 
usual,  the  parlors  were  full.  At  one  end  of 
the  room  sat  Major  Brooks  and  Colonel 
Whipple,  honoring  us  now  and  then  with  the 
covert  and  curious  observation  to  which  I 
could  never  become  hardened.  Captain  Hos- 
mer  was  walking  restlessly  up  and  down  the 
floor,  and  casting  uneasy  glances  toward  us. 
He  was  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  catechize 
me  about  my  friend,  but  I  knew  he  was  not 
172 


The  Flower  of  Chivalry 

only  curious  but  concerned  in  regard  to  my 
intimacy  with  Captain  Locke. 

Captain  Locke  was  saying  to  me  that  he 
was  in  favor  of  our  taking  some  schooner  go- 
ing down  the  bay  and  landing  somewhere  in 
Gloucester  County,  when  I  became  so  pain- 
fully conscious  that  the  eyes  of  the  enemy 
were  upon  us  that  I  could  not  attend  to  what 
he  was  saying. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you? "  he 
asked.  "  You  are  not  thinking  at  all  of  what 
I  am  saying.  I  reckon  your  mind  is  on  Dan 
Grey." 

"  I  am  thinking  about  you,"  I  said,  on 
the  verge  of  tears.  "  If  you  are  not  more 
careful,  you  won't  get  back  home  at  all,  I'm 
afraid." 

"  Why?  "he  asked  innocently,  and  as  if 
he  were  the  most  prudent  person  in  the 
world. 

"  Only  what  Milicent  and  I  have  been 
telling  you  all  along.  You  come  here  openly 
and  boldly  in  the  presence  of  all  these  Yan- 
kees. You  visit  us,  and  we  feel  responsible 
for  any  misfortune  that  might  come  to  you 
through  it.  It  is  well  known  now,  I  think,  by 
173 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

everybody  in  the  house  that  we  are  South- 
erners and  blockade-runners.  No  one  in  the 
house  except  ourselves  and  Mrs.  Harris 
knows  who  you  really  are.  Don't  you  sup- 
pose people  wonder?  " 

He  had  been  introduced  several  times  to 
ladies  as  Mr.  Moore,  but  we  had  not  in- 
troduced him  generally.  We  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  him.  For  ourselves,  we 
felt  safe  by  this  time,  but  I  never  sat  on 
that  sofa  by  Captain  Locke's  side  with- 
out the  fear  in  my  heart  that  a  sergeant-at- 
arms  might  walk  in  and  lay  hands  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  I  went  on,  "  how  Cap- 
tain Hosmer  is  watching  you?" 

For  Hosmer  was  watching  him  with  a 
scrutiny  which  could  be  felt  in  spite  of  all  his 
courteous  efforts  at  concealment.  "  And 
can't  you  see  with  what  suspicious  looks 
those  officers  across  the  room  regard  you?  " 

"  That's  so.  You  must  introduce  me  to 
some  of  these  people." 

I  was  dumfounded.  So  this  was  the  result 
of  my  caution! 

"  By  which  of  your  names  shall  I  call 
174 


The  Flower  of  Chivalry 

you?  "  I  asked  satirically,  but  the  satire  was 
lost  on  him. 

"  The  last  one.  That  is  a  good  name.  It 
is  nearly  as  common  as  Smith.  Besides,  I 
really  have  a  right  to  it.  I  came  by  it  hon- 
estly. I  have  a  friend  in  New  York  by  that 
name  and  he  has  kindly  lent  it  to  me  for 
emergencies.  So  if  anybody  wants  to  write 
or  telegraph  to  New  York  about  it,  they 
will  find  me  all  right.  My  cousin  in  New 
York  —  who  really  is  my  cousin  many 
degrees  removed  —  will  acknowledge  me. 
He  is  well  known  in  business  circles 
there." 

"  Whom  shall  I  introduce  you  to?  " 

"  I  would  rather  meet  those  officers." 

"  Good  gracious! " 

He  smiled.  "  They  can  give  me  more, 
and  more  accurate,  information  than  any- 
body else,  and  of  just  the  kind  I  want." 

"  You  are  going  to  get  yourself  shot  be- 
fore you  start  home.  I  won't  be  responsible 
for  you." 

"  They  don't  shoot  spies — they  hang  'em," 
he  said  cheerfully. 

I  believe  his  cheerful  ease  carried  us  safely 
175 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

through  this  conversation  under  the  eyes  of 
the  enemy,  as  it  had  done  before. 

"  Those  gentlemen  would  hardly  think 
me  entitled  to  the  courtesy  of  a  bullet,"  he 
went  on  with  the  utmost  sang-froid.  "  A 
rope  is  more  in  accordance  with  my  expecta- 
tions if  I  am  caught.  But  I  do  not  expect 
to  be  caught.  Really,  little  madam,  the 
frank  and  open  plan  is  the  best.  If  I  were  to 
visit  you  clandestinely  it  would  create  more 
suspicion.  Don't  you  see  the  fact  that  you 
haven't  presented  me  to  those  gentlemen  is  in 
itself  suspicious?  Call  those  officers  up  and 
do  the  honors." 

"  I  will  call  Captain  Hosmer,"  I  said 
faintly.  "  I  really  haven't  the  nerve  to  sum- 
mon the  other  two. — Captain  Hosmer! "  I 
called. 

He  came  instantly,  and  I  saw  that  he  was 
glad  to  be  called. 

"  Captain  Hosmer,  let  me  introduce  you 
to  my  friend,  Mr.  Moore." 

"  Mr.  Moore  "  rose,  and  the  two  gentle- 
men bowed  and  shook  hands  with  each  other. 
Then  they  sat  down,  the  Federal  captain  on 
one  side  of  me,  the  rebel  captain  on  the  other, 
176 


The  Flower  of  Chivalry 

and  we  had  a  pleasant  chat.  Captain  Hos- 
mer  asked  "  Mr.  Moore  "  if  he  was  related  to 
Henry  P.  Moore,  of  New  York,  and  "  Mr. 
Moore  "  replied  in  the  affirmative.  Captain 
Hosmer  knew  this  gentleman  very  well. 
Captain  Locke  was  introduced  to  Major 
Brooks  and  Colonel  Whipple,  and  it  ended 
by  Captain  Locke  and  Schenck's  adjutant 
walking  down  the  street  together.  Captain 
Hosmer  and  I  watched  them  from  the  win- 
dow as  they  strolled  past,  smoking  their 
cigars. 

"  Your  friend  is  a  very  handsome  man," 
he  said. 

"  You  think  so?  Dan  is  ever  so  much 
handsomer." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  he  laughed. 

The  next  day  I  said  to  Captain  Locke: 
"  You — you  wouldn't  have  to  use  informa- 
tion received  from  these  gentlemen  in  any 
way  that  might  ever  hurt  them,  would  you? 
We  wouldn't  have  to  do  that,  would  we?" 

"  Dear  little  madam,  it  is  not  probable 
that  they  will  honor  me  with  too  much  con- 
fidence. No  hurt  could  ever  come  to  one 
who  is  kind  to  you  through  me.  My  first 
177 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

duty  is  to  the  South;  so  is  yours.  But  honor 
between  man  and  man  is  honor,  and  friend- 
ship is  friendship,  even  in  war  times.  In  my 
life  it  has  sometimes  been  very  hard  to  know 
the  line." 

And  there  rested  on  his  face  at  this  mo- 
ment the  nearest  thing  to  a  shadow  that  I 
had  ever  seen  there. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I  have  been 
reckless  of  your  safety  in  coming  here  to  see 
you.  I  am  quite  sure  of  my  ground.  You 
are  not  involved  in  any  of  my  operations. 
And  if  anything  were  to  happen,  I  have 
friends  here  who  could  extricate  you  even  if 
they  could  not  save  me.  The  principal  thing 
I  wish  to  find  out,  now,  from  your  Federal 
friends  here  is  how  you  may  get  back  to  Vir- 
ginia safely — since  you  will  go.  If  I  find  out 
that  my  attendance  on  you  will  be  to  your 
disadvantage,  little  madam,  we  must  give 
that  up." 

It  was  I  who  had  shown  most  anxiety 
that  we  should  go  together.  While  we  were 
talking  Captain  Hosmer  came  in,  and  I  made 
room  for  him  on  the  other  side  of  me.  The 
two  men  greeted  each  other  cordially.  They 
178 


The  Flower  of  Chivalry 

had  taken  a  liking  to  each  other,  and  the 
rebel  captain  said  to  the  other: 

"  My  friend  here  has  just  been  consulting 
me  as  to  the  route  she  had  best  take  in  get- 
ting home.  I  suggested  that  you  might 
advise  her  to  better  purpose." 

"  I  deplore  Miss  Duncan's  determination 
to  go,"  said  Captain  Hosmer.  "  Almost  any 
route  is  unsafe  just  now — if  possible.  How- 
ever, I  will  be  glad  to  do  anything  I  can. 
Have  you  any  plan  under  consideration?  " 

"  Wait  a  minute,  captain,"  I  said,  rising. 
"  I  will  go  and  get  a  little  map  I  have,  and 
show  you  the  route  which  Mr.  Moore  ad- 
vised me  to  take." 

I  went  out,  leaving  the  two  officers  to- 
gether. When  I  returned  I  resumed  my  seat 
between  them,  spread  the  map  open  upon  my 
lap,  and  they  bent  over  it,  Federal  and  Confed- 
erate heads  touching,  while  I  traced  the  route 
with  my  finger. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Moore  thinks  I  might  go 
down  the  bay  in  a  schooner  and  land  some- 
where here  in  Gloucester  County." 

"  No!  no!  you  mustn't  go  that  way!  "  ex- 
claimed Captain  Hosmer  quickly.  "  You  are 
179 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

sure- to  be  taken  up  if  you  try  that.  With  all 
due  deference  to  you,  Mr.  Moore,  my  knowl- 
edge of  the  position  of  our  forces  convinces 
me  that  that  is  impossible." 

"  Of  course,  as  an  officer  in  the  army,  you 
must  be  better  informed  than  I  am,"  Captain 
Locke  said  simply.  "  That  is  why  I  advised 
Miss  Duncan  to  consult  you." 

"  Your  best  plan  is  to  go  by  Harper's 
Ferry.  It  is  a  difficult  matter  to  get  through 
anywhere  now,  but  if  you  get  to  Virginia  at 
all  I  think  it  must  be  by  way  of  Harper's 
Ferry." 

Major  Brooks  and  Colonel  Whipple  joined 
us,  and  the  matter  ended  as  on  the  previous 
day,  by  Captain  Locke  and  Colonel  Whipple 
walking  off  down  the  street  together. 

"  Moore  is  a  splendid  fellow,"  Captain 
Hosmer  said  to  me,  when  we  had  the  sofa  to 
ourselves.  "  I  am  glad  you  introduced  us. 
Your  not  doing  so  looked  suspicious,  and  I 
was  troubled  for  fear  he  would  get  you  into 
some  scrape  or  other." 

Dear,  generous  fellow,  how  I  hated  to 
deceive  him,  and  how  it  was  on  the  tip  of  my 
tongue  to  tell  him  who  Captain  Locke  was, 
180 


The  Flower  of  Chivalry 

until  I  remembered  what  his  duty  would  be  if 
I  told  him!  And  Captain  Locke's  secret  was 
mine  to  keep.  He  had  been  ready  to  risk  his 
life  rather  than  leave  me  alone  at  Berlin! 
Then,  too,  poor  fellow,  he  had  such  a  slender 
chance,  I  thought,  of  getting"  home  alive  that 
not  even  an  enemy  would  care  to  make  it 
worse.  I  used  to  look  at  his  bonnie  white 
throat  and  shudder. 

"  God  bless  you,"  he  said  to  me  once, 
"  for  all  your  goodness  to  a  poor,  lonely, 
stray  fellow!  You  shouldn't  be  afraid  for  me. 
You  say  your  '  Hail  Marys '  for  me,  you 
know." 

I  had  been  telling  him  I  was  afraid  for 
him,  and  he  had,  as  usual,  tried  to  reassure 
me  and  to  laugh  me  out  of  it.  He  was  never 
afraid  for  himself — I  believe  he  would  have 
stood  up  to  be  shot  with  a  laugh  on  his  lips. 
I  wonder  if  he  was  laughing  when  they  shot 
him — my  dear,  brave  friend! 

In  the  meantime  we  had  heard  that  Mr. 
Holliway  had  been  arrested  in  West  Vir- 
ginia, was  lying  in  prison  somewhere,  and 
that  his  friends  were  trying  to  get  him  out, 
and  before  I  left  Baltimore  we  heard  that  he 
181 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

had  died  in  prison  just  as  an  exchange  had 
been  arranged. 

My  return  to  Virginia  was  the  subject  of 
daily  discussions  between  me  and  my  two 
captains,  and  in  this  way  Captain  Locke  con- 
tinued to  find  out  ways  that  he  must  not  go, 
and  eventually  that  we  must  not  go  together. 
It  was  he  who  first  said  it. 

"  I  should  be  no  earthly  good,  but  a  dis- 
advantage to  you,  little  madam.  Hosmer  is 
going  to  see  you  through  this  thing  all 
right." 

Then,  seeing  my  downcast  look,  he  went 
on  cheerily:  "  I'll  get  through  somehow  all 
right,  sooner  or  later,  and  we'll  meet  in  Old 
Virginia.  Don't  bother  your  dear  little  head 
about  me." 

Captain  Hosmer  tried  in  vain  to  dissuade 
me  from  going.  He  felt  that  the  journey 
under  present  conditions  would  be  uncom- 
fortable and  unsafe,  and  that  it  was  in  every 
way  advisable  for  me  to  stay  where  I  was. 
But  I  was  beginning  to  be  very  uneasy  about 
Dan.  I  had  heard  from  him  only  once  since 
reaching  Baltimore.  Then  his  letters  came 
in  a  batch,  and  I  received  them  through  the 
182 


The  Flower  of  Chivalry 

kindly  agency  of  Mr.  Cridland,  British  con- 
sul at  Richmond,  who  had  been  my  father's 
personal  friend  and  frequent  guest,  and  who 
had  dandled  a  small  person  named  "  Nell " 
on  his  knee  many  times.  Captain  Hosmer 
still  insisted  that  I  must  go  by  Harper's 
Ferry  if  I  went  at  all,  and  he  said  that  a  pass 
was  necessary. 

"  How  on  earth  am  I  to  get  it? "  I 
asked. 

"  I  must  arrange  that  for  you,"  he  said. 

I  think  one  reason  that  Captain  Hosmer 
was  so  good  to  me  was  because  his  wife 
was  a  Southern  woman.  Her  parents  were 
Southern,  her  brothers  were  in  the  Southern 
army,  and  her  husband  was  a  Federal  officer. 
They  loved  each  other,  but  somehow  they 
were  separated,  she  living  South  with  her 
parents.  Under  the  pressure  of  the  times 
there  was  a  sectional  conscience,  and  people 
did  things  which  they  did  not  wish  to  do, 
because  they  thought  it  was  right.  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  have  done  then  if  I  had 
been  situated  as  Mrs.  Hosmer  was,  but  I 
know  that  at  the  present  time  I  should  stick 
to  Dan,  no  matter  what  flag  he  fought  under. 
13  183 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Perhaps  we  are  not  as  great  or  good  in  peace 
as  in  war  times. 

The  captain  had  a  beautiful  country-seat 
several  miles  out  of  town.  We  had  heard 
much  of  this  place  and  its  old-time  hospitali- 
ties; and  we  also  heard  that  it  had  been  vir- 
tually closed  since  Captain  Hosmer's  separa- 
tion from  his  wife.  The  captain  went  there 
frequently  alone,  and  occasionally  with  a  few 
friends,  but  the  place  had  known  no  festivity 
since  its  mistress  had  gone  away  on  that  visit 
from  which,  by  the  way,  she  returned  before 
we  left  Baltimore. 

But  before  she  came  back  there  was  a 
stag  party  at  the  captain's  country  place, 
given  in  honor  of  General  Fish,  the  provost 
marshal  at  Baltimore,  and  other  prominent 
officers. 

The  next  time  I  saw  Captain  Hosmer  he 
had  a  smile  for  me. 

"  You  will  get  your  passes,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  spoken  to  General  Fish  for  them." 

Milicent  had  decided  that  she  could  not 

risk  little  Bobby  on  such  a  journey  and  at 

this  season,  but  mother  was  to  go  with  me. 

The  day  before  we  were  to  start  she  and  I 

184 


The  Flower  of  Chivalry 

went  down  to  General  Fish's  office.  He  was 
out,  but  an  orderly  told  us  rather  rudely  to 
sit  down  and  wait,  which  invitation  or  com- 
mand we  humbly  acted  upon.  Presently 
General  Fish  entered.    We  stated  our  case. 

"  We  are  Southerners,  general,  and  we 
wish  to  go  south  by  way  of  Harper's  Ferry." 

"  Mrs.  and  Miss  Duncan,  I  think  you 
said?  " 

"  Yes,  general." 

"  You  are  the  ladies  I  heard  of  from  Cap- 
tain Hosmer,  then?  " 

We  gave  him  a  note  from  Captain 
Hosmer. 

"  Excuse  me,  ladies,  while  I  read  this,  and 
I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

He  finished  the  note  and  then  said: 

"  That's  all  right.  I  will  make  out  your 
passes,  ladies,"  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  im- 
portant papers  were  in  our  hands. 

"  These  will  take  you  to  General  Kelly  at 
Harper's  Ferry.  There  my  power  ends.  You 
will  find  General  Kelly  courteous  and  consid- 
erate, though  I  make  no  promises  for  him, 
understand.  I  will  furnish  you  an  escort  to 
Harper's  Ferry,  and  an  officer  will  be  sent  to 
185 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

your  boarding-house  this  afternoon  to  ex- 
amine your  baggage.  Your  address,  please." 
He  wrote  a  few  words  rapidly,  and  called 
the  orderly: 

"  Take  that  order,"  he  said. 

The  orderly  saluted  and  got  as  far  as  the 
door,  then  he  turned. 

"  Do  these  women  go?  "he  asked  of  the 
general. 

"  These  ladies  go.    Obey  my  order,  sir!  " 

Upon  which  the  orderly  went  quickly 
about  his  business. 

When  the  officer  came  to  examine  our 
baggage  I  was  on  thorns.  I  had  come  north 
intending  to  make  certain  purchases,  and  I 
had  made  them,  and  the  fruit  of  my  money 
and  labors  was  in  those  two  trunks  of  moth- 
er's and  mine.  Mother's  trunk  was  quite 
a  large  one,  and  both  of  those  honest-looking 
trunks  to  which  I  yielded  the  keys  so  freely 
were  crammed  with  dishonest  goods — that  is, 
dishonest  according  to  blockade  law.  I  had 
paid  good  gold  for  them,  and  anxiety 
enough,  Heaven  knows,  for  them  to  be  prop- 
erly mine. 

I  had  shoes  in  the  bottom  of  those  trunks, 
186 


The  Flower  of  Chivalry 

and  on  top  of  the  shoes  cloth  made  into  the 
semblance  of  female  wear  and  underwear; 
and,  lastly,  I  had  put  in  genuine  every-day 
garments.  There  were  handkerchiefs,  pins, 
needles,  gloves,  thread,  and  all  sorts  of  odds 
and  ends  between  the  folds  of  garments,  here, 
there,  and  everywhere  in  those  trunks.  They 
were  as  contraband  trunks  as  ever  crossed 
into  Dixie.  But,  again,  my  Yankee  was  a 
gentleman. 

"  This  is  an  unpleasant  duty,  miss,"  he 
said  when  I  handed  him  my  keys,  "  but  I  will 
disarrange  your  property  as  little  as  possible. 
It  is  only  a  form." 

The  orderly  lifted  the  trays  and  set  them 
back  again,  scarcely  glancing  underneath. 
What  a  dear,  nice  Yankee,  I  thought!  He 
locked  the  trunks  and  sealed  them. 

"  Will  those  seals  be  broken  anywhere, 
and  my  trunks  examined  again?  "  I  asked  in 
some  trepidation — this  examination  was  so 
satisfactory  to  me  that  I  wanted  it  to  do  for 
one  and  all. 

"I  can  not  tell,  miss.     They  may  be  at 
Harper's  Ferry.     But  I  hardly  think  so.     I 
think  this  seal  will  carry  you  through." 
187 


CHAPTER   XVII 

PRISONERS    OF   THE    UNITED    STATES 

The  officer  who  had  examined  our  trunks 
the  previous  day  took  the  trunks  to  the 
depot  in  a  wagon,  mother  and  I  going  in  a 
hack.  After  we  got  on  the  train,  our  officer, 
Lieutenant  Martin,  joined  us,  and  made  him- 
self very  agreeable.  The  beginning  of  that 
journey  was  most  pleasant.  The  scenery 
along  the  road  to  Harper's  Ferry  is  at  all 
times  beautiful,  and  as  we  drew  nearer  to  the 
ferry  our  car  ran  by  the  side  of  the  Potomac, 
so  that  from  one  window  we  looked  across  the 
river  to  the  Virginia  Heights,  and  from  the 
other  to  the  Heights  of  Maryland.  It  was 
afternoon  and  growing  dark  when  we  reached 
Harper's  Ferry. 

There  we  found  something  like  a  riot  go- 
ing on,  shouting  and  noises  of  all  sorts,  and 
the  town  full  of  drunken  soldiers.  We  were 
told  that  there  had  been  fighting  in  the  val- 
188 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

ley,  that  the  Federals  had  won,  and  that  the 
men  had  just  been  paid  off,  and  were  cele- 
brating victory  and  enjoying  pay  and  booty 
in  regular  soldier  fashion.  Through  this 
shouting,  rowdy  mob  mother  and  I  passed 
under  our  Federal  escort  to  the  tavern. 

When  we  reached  the  tavern,  a  miserable 
little  place  full  of  drunken  soldiers,  our  kind 
escort  told  us  that  his  duty  was  at  an  end,  and 
that  he  must  take  the  return  train  to  Balti- 
more. I  think  he  hated  to  leave  us  under  such 
unsafe  circumstances,  but  he  scarcely  had  time 
to  settle  us  in  the  reception-room,  shake  hands, 
and  catch  his  train.  Here  mother  and  I  sat, 
debating  what  we  should  do.  Of  course,  we 
were  extremely  anxious  to  get  out  of  the 
place.  We  called  a  waiter  and  asked  him  if 
he  could  tell  us  where  we  could  hire  a  vehi- 
cle to  take  us  a  part  of  our  journey,  or  the 
whole  of  it.  He  knew  of  nothing  that  we 
could  get.  Then  we  went  out  on  the  porch, 
disagreeable  as  this  was,  and  made  inquiries 
of  everybody  who  seemed  sober  enough  to 
answer,  but  to  no  purpose.  We  could  find 
no  way  of  getting  out  of  Harper's  Ferry  that 

night. 

189 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Thoroughly  frightened,  we  asked  to  be 
shown  to  the  commanding  officer  of  the 
place,  and  were  ushered  into  General  Kelly's 
office,  which,  fortunately,  was  attached  to  the 
tavern — really  a  part  of  it. 

General  Kelly  rose  when  we  entered,  saw 
us  seated,  and  was  as  courteous  as  possible, 
while  we  stated  the  case  and  asked  his  advice. 
He  heard  us  patiently,  and  was  very  sym- 
pathetic. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  ladies.  I 
have  no  authority  to  send  you  on." 

"Then  what  will  we  do,  general?" 

"  I  can  not  say.  I  can,  of  course,  give 
you  passes,  but  you  will  find  it  impossible  to 
hire  anything  here  to  travel  in  just  now. 
The  best  you  could  get  would  be  an  ox-cart 
or  a  broken-down  wagon,  and  the  roads  are 
almost  impassable  for  good  strong  vehicles. 
And,  besides,  it  is  not  safe  for  you  to  travel 
except  under  military  escort,  which,  as  I  have 
said,  I  have  no  authority  to  furnish.  There 
has  been  a  great  deal  of  fighting  in  the  val- 
ley, and  the  roads  are  lined  with  stragglers. 
If  you  were  prisoners  now  I  could  put  you 
under  escort  and  send  you  through  our  lines 
190 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

easy  enough,  but  as  it  is  I  don't  see  what  I 
can  do." 

We  felt  inclined  to  cry. 

"  And  this  is  not  a  fit  place  for  you  to 
spend  the  night  in,  as  you  can  see  for  your- 
selves," he  pursued,  very  much  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  Job's  comforter.  "  The  tavern  is 
thronged  with  drunken  men,  and  the  whole 
town  is  overrun  with  them." 

"  Would  it  not  be  best  for  us  to  return  to 
Baltimore?"  we  asked  humbly.  We  had 
almost  made  up  our  minds  to  going  back. 

"  That  would  be  best,  certainly — if  you 
can.'" 

"  Why,  can't  we  go  back?  We  had  no 
idea  that  we  wouldn't  be  allowed  to  go  back 
if  we  wanted  to." 

"  Well,  you  see,  ladies,  you  are  in  the 
position  of  Southerners  sent  south.  The  pol- 
icy of  the  Government  encourages  the  send- 
ing of  all  Southerners  in  Maryland  south  to 
stay.  I  am  only  explaining,  that  you  may 
understand  that  it  may  be  difficult  for  me  to 
assist  you,  in  spite  of  my  willingness  to  do  so. 
I  can  not  send  you  back  without  authority 
from  General  Fish.  I  will  telegraph  to  him 
191 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

at  once,  and  do  my  best  for  you.  My  orderly 
will  see  you  back  to  the  tavern.  And  I  will 
notify  you  when  I  hear  from  General  Fish." 

So  we  returned  to  the  reception-room  of 
the  tavern.  Among  the  groups  thronging 
the  tavern  were  a  few  graycoats  who  had 
been  captured  the  day  before.  One  of  these 
prisoners,  a  tall,  handsome  man,  walked  rest- 
lessly up  and  down  the  room  where  we  sat, 
his  guard  keeping  watch  on  him.  As  he 
passed  back  and  forth  I  looked  at  him  sor- 
rowfully, putting  into  my  eyes  all  the  sym- 
pathy and  encouragement  I  dared. 

There  was  something  in  his  look  when  he 
returned  mine  that  made  me  think  he  wanted 
to  speak  to  me.  Every  time  he  passed  I 
thought  I  saw  his  eyes  growing  more  and 
more  wistful  under  their  drooping  lids. 

Without  seeming  to  notice  him  I  moved 
about  the  room  until  I  got  to  a  window  which 
was  in  the  line  of  his  restless  beat.  I  stood 
there,  my  back  turned  to  him,  apparently 
looking  out  of  the  window,  until  I  disarmed 
the  suspicion  of  the  guard.  Then  I  settled 
down  into  a  seat,  my  side  to  the  window,  my 
back  to  the  guard,  my  face  to  the  prisoner 
192 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

when  the  turn  in  his  beat  brought  him  toward 
me.  A  swift  glance  showed  him  that  I  was 
on  the  alert.  Not  a  muscle  of  his  face 
changed — he  was  facing  the  guard — but 
when  he  turned  and  came  back,  as  he  passed 
me  he  dropped  these  words. 

"  Going  south?  " 

He  walked  to  the  end  of  the  room  and 
turned.  Coming  back,  he  faced  me  and  the 
guard.    As  he  passed  I  said: 

"  Yes." 

When  he  came  back,  he  said — always 
with  his  head  drooped  and  speaking  below  his 
breath  and  so  that  his  lips  could  hardly  be 
seen  to  move: 

"  Take  a  message?  " 

When  he  passed  back  I  said: 

"  Yes." 

Returning:  "  Get  word  to  Governor 
Vance  of  North  Carolina " 

To  the  end  of  his  beat,  turning  and  pass- 
ing again  in  silence,  then  as  he  walked  with 
his  back  to  the  guard: 

"You  saw  Charlie  Vance  here " 

To  the  end  of  beat  one  way,  to  the  end 
another,  and  back  again: 
193 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 
"  Prisoner — captured     in     fight     yester- 


day  " 

Several  beats  back  and  forth  in  silence, 
then: 

"  Carried  north -" 

Again : 

"  Don't  know  where." 

This  was  the  last  he  had  opportunity  to 
say.  I  saw  the  orderly  coming  in.  Before 
Lieutenant  Vance  was  near  enough  to  catch 
another  word  from  me,  the  orderly  stood  be- 
fore me,  a  telegram  in  his  hand.  It  was  from 
General  Fish  to  General  Kelly: 

"  The  ladies  were  sent  south  at  their  own 
request.  I  decline  further  connection  with 
the  matter." 

"  Why — why,"  I  cried  in  desperation, 
"  we  can't  go  south,  we  can't  go  north,  and 
we  can't  stay  here! " 

There  was  a  pert  little  Yankee  in  the  room 
who  had  been  watching  us  for  some  time. 
He,  like  everybody  else  around  us,  under- 
stood by  this  time  our  dilemma. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  to  get  sent  on,  if  you 
will  listen,"  he  said. 

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Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

"  I  will,"  I  said  clearly  and  firmly,  and 
looking  straight  into  the  eyes  of  Lieutenant 
Vance,  who  was  then  passing  close  by  me. 

The  little  Yankee  was  staggered  by  the 
unnecessary  amount  of  resolution  expressed  in 
my  reply.  I  kept  my  eyes  focused  on  the  spot 
where  Mr.  Vance  had  been  for  some  seconds 
after  he  had  passed.  Then  I  turned  to  my 
little  Yankee.  I  had  snubbed  him  severely 
heretofore,  but  I  was  humbled  by  extremity, 
and  willing  enough  now  to  listen  if  he  could 
tell  us  how  to  get  away  from  this  place. 

"  Tell  us  how  we  can  get  sent  on,"  I 
asked. 

"Just  step  out  there  in  the  street  and 
holler  for  Jeff  Davis,  and  you'll  get  sent  on 
quick  enough ! " 

We  withered  him  with  a  stare,  and  then 
turned  our  backs  on  him,  and  at  the  same 
moment  two  ladies  entered  the  room  whom 
we  recognized.  They  were  Mrs.  Drummond 
and  Miss  Oglesby,  whose  acquaintance  we 
had  made  in  Baltimore,  and  they,  too,  were 
going  south.  They  explained  that  they 
had  been  in  this  wretched  place  since  yester- 
day, and  that  they  were  not  allowed  to 
195 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

return  to  Baltimore  and  were  unable  to  go 
home.  They  had  been  out  trying  to  find 
a  conveyance  of  some  sort,  but  had  been 
able  to  secure  only  the  promise  of  an  ox- 
cart, and  hearing  that  we  were  here  had 
come  in  to  consult  with  us.  During  all  this 
time  the  orderly,  whom  I  had  detained,  was 
waiting  impatiently.  We  decided  to  go  with 
him  and  make  another  appeal  to  General 
Kelly.  Accordingly  the  whole  party  filed  into 
General  Kelly's  office  again. 

"  What  are  we  to  do,  general?  "  I  cried 
out  in  desperation.  "  We  can't  go  back,  we 
can't  go  on,  and  we  can't  stay  here! " 

The  kindly  general  did  honor  to  the  stars 
he  wore — he  was  a  gentleman,  every  inch  of 
him.  It  happened  later  that  he  was  captured 
and  held  in  Libby  Prison  in  Richmond,  and 
I  was  in  Richmond  and  didn't  know  it.  I 
have  held  a  grudge  against  fate  ever  since. 
If  I  had  only  known,  he  would  have  been  re- 
minded by  every  courtesy  that  a  Southern 
woman  could  render  of  how  gratefully  his 
kindness  was  remembered. 

"  I  hardly  hoped  for  a  different  answer 
from  General  Fish,  ladies.  The  regulations  on 
196 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

this  point  are  very  stringent.  And  I  can  not 
return  you  to  Baltimore  unless  you  take  the 
oath  of  allegiance." 

"  What?  "  we  asked  eagerly. 

"  If  you  take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  I  can 
send  you  back." 

We  decided  to  do  this. 

We  didn't  know  exactly  what  the  oath 
was,  but  we  thought  we  could  take  anything 
to  get  us  out  of  our  scrape.  We  told  General 
Kelly  we  would  take  it,  and  we  were  con- 
ducted into  another  room,  which  I  can  only 
remember  as  being  full  of  Federal  soldiers. 
We  were  marched  up  to  a  desk  where  a  man 
began  reading  the  oath  to  us.  It  was  the 
famous  "  ironclad."  We  did  not  wait  for  him 
to  get  through.  Without  a  word  each  of 
us  turned  and  marched  back  into  General 
Kelly's  office,  as  indignant  a  set  of  women 
as  could  be  found. 

He  was  looking  for  us — doubtless  he 
knew  by  previous  experience  the  effect  the 
reading  of  that  oath  produced  upon  Southern 
women — and  he  burst  out  laughing  as  our 
procession  filed  back  into  his  room. 

"  Why,  general,"  we  began,  "  we  couldn't 
197 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

take  that  horrid  thing!  We  are  Southerners, 
and  our  kinsmen  and  friends  are  Southern 
soldiers." 

"  I  almost  knew  you  wouldn't  take  that 
oath,  ladies,  when  I  sent  you  there." 

"  General,"  I  said,  "  this  is  the  most  re- 
markable position  I  ever  knew  people  to  be 
in — where  you  can't  go  back,  and  can't  go  for- 
ward, and  can't  stay  where  you  are.  I  don't 
know  what  you  are  to  do  with  us,  general, 
unless  you  hang  us  to  get  us  out  of  the  way." 

He  laughed  heartily. 

"  I  must  do  something  a  little  better  than 
that  for  you.  My  orderly  will  take  you  back 
to  the  tavern,  and  you  will  hear  from  me  in 
an  hour." 

We  went  with  Mrs.  Drummond  and  Miss 
Oglesby  to  their  room.  Before  the  hour  was 
up  we  were  escorted  to  another  interview 
with  General  Kelly.  The  general  beamed 
on  us. 

"  Here  is  a  telegram  I  received  in  your 
absence,"  he  said,  handing  it  to  us: 

"  Mrs.  and  Miss  Duncan  are  dear  friends 
of  mine.    Can  you  see  them  through?    If  not, 
198 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

tell  them  I  will  be  in  Harper's  Ferry  to-night. 
Answer. 

"  HOSMER." 

"  Here  is  my  answer,"  said  the  general: 

"  Stay  where  you  are.  Will  see  them 
through  all  right. 

"  Kelly." 

"  How  could  he  have  found  out  the 
trouble  we  were  in?  "  we  asked  in  wonder. 

"  I  don't  know.  News  of  the  fighting  in 
the  valley  and  the  condition  of  things  here 
reached  Baltimore  soon  after  you  left  there. 
Hosmer  perhaps  got  an  idea  of  your  situation 
through  General  Fish.  He  may  have  gone 
to  Fish's  orHce  to  inquire.  Hosmer  is  a  capi- 
tal fellow  and  an  old  friend  of  mine.  I  had 
about  determined  on  what  to  do  for  you  be- 
fore I  heard  from  him,  but  I  thought  it  would 
please  you  to  know  of  his  message.  I  will 
ask  you  to  return  to  the  tavern,  ladies,  and 
exercise  a  little  further  patience.  You  will 
hear  from  me  soon." 

This  time  we  waited  only  a  little  while 
before  an  orderly  rapped  at  the  door  to  say 
x4  199 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

that  an  ambulance  was  in  waiting  for  us  be- 
low. We  hurried  down  with  him,  and  in  ten 
minutes  were  inside  the  ambulance,  and  pris- 
oners of  the  United  States. 

Behind  us  into  the  ambulance  stepped  a 
dashing  young  officer,  all  brass  buttons  and 
gold  lace. 

"  I  am  Captain  Goldsborough,"  he  said, 
saluting,  "  commissioned  by  General  Kelly 
to  attend  you." 

Our  escort  consisted  of  five  soldiers  who 
followed  us,  sitting  in  a  wagon  on  our  bag- 
gage. That  afternoon  we  passed  through 
Charlestown,  and  there  Captain  Goldsborough 
pointed  out  to  us  the  house  in  which  John 
Brown  had  lived — an  ordinary  two-story 
frame  house. 

As  well  as  I  can  remember  we  reached 
Berryville  about  nine  o'clock.  Our  ambu- 
lance drew  up  in  front  of  the  tavern,  and  Cap- 
tain Goldsborough  went  in  to  see  about  get- 
ting accommodations  for  us.  He  came  out 
quickly  and  said,  "  This  is  no  fit  place  to- 
night for  you,  ladies.  I  am  informed  that 
there  is  an  old  couple  on  the  hill  who  may 
take  us  in.  I  hear,  too,  that  they  are  good 
200 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

Confederates,"  he  added  mischievously.  Of 
course  lights  were  out  and  everybody  asleep 
when  we  drove  up,  but  our  driver  went  in 
and  beat  on  the  door  until  he  waked  the  old 
people  up.  They  received  us  kindly,  and  the 
old  lady  got  a  supper  for  us  of  cold  meats 
and  slices  of  loaf  bread,  butter,  milk,  pre- 
serves, and  hot  coffee  which  she  must  have 
made  herself  as  no  servants  were  in  the  house 
at  that  hour;  and  we  had  a  comfortable  room 
with  two  beds  in  it.  The  old  lady  came  in 
and  chatted  with  us  awhile,  telling  us  all  she 
knew  about  our  army's  movements,  and 
listening  eagerly  to  what  people  in  Maryland 
had  to  say  about  the  war.  We  were  very 
tired,  but  I  am  sure  it  must  have  been  one 
o'clock  when  we  went  to  sleep.  At  daybreak 
there  came  a  great  banging  at  the  front  door. 
Mother  put  her  head  out  of  the  front  window 
and  inquired  who  was  trying  to  break  the 
door  down. 

It  was  our  driver,  and  there  at  the  gate 
stood  our  ambulance.  The  driver  hurried  us 
desperately,  saying  we  had  not  a  moment 
to  lose.  The  noise  had  aroused  our  hosts, 
and  when  we  got  down  the  old  lady  had 
201 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

spread  us  a  cold  lunch  and  made  us  a  cup  of 
coffee. 

"  I  was  hoping  to  have  you  a  nice  hot 
breakfast,"  she  said,  "  but  since  you  must  go 
in  such  a  hurry  this  is  the  best  I  can  do.  If 
I  had  known  you  were  going  to  make  such 
an  early  start  I  would  have  got  you  a  hot 
breakfast  somehow." 

We  swallowed  our  food  hurriedly,  but 
this  did  not  satisfy  our  driver.  Every  few 
minutes  he  came  down  on  the  door  with  the 
butt  end  of  his  whip.  Finally  we  left  off  eat- 
ing, ran  up-stairs,  and  gathered  up  our  bags. 
As  we  hurried  down,  almost  falling  over  each 
other  in  our  haste,  we  saw  a  magnificent- 
looking  soldier  standing  in  the  hall.  He  was 
in  the  full  uniform  of  a  colonel  of  cavalry, 
glittering  with  gold  lace,  with  gauntlets  reach- 
ing his  elbows,  and  high  military  boots. 

"  Mrs.  Duncan  and  Miss  Duncan,  I  sup- 
pose," he  said  with  a  sweeping  bow, 
«  and " 

"  Mrs.  Drummond  and  Miss  Oglesby," 
we  said  of  the  ladies  who  came  behind  us. 

"  I  am  Colonel  McReynolds,  comman- 
dant at  this  place,  and  at  your  service,  ladies," 
202 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

he  continued.  "  I  have  to  apologize  for  not 
paying  my  respects  to  you  last  night  upon 
receipt  of  General  Kelly's  letter  asking  me 
to  take  charge  of  you.  The  lateness  of  the 
hour  must  be  my  excuse.  At  the  time  Cap- 
tain Goldsborough  presented  it  I  had  a  num- 
ber of  important  despatches  to  attend  to,  and 
I  supposed  you  were  tired  out  and  in  need  of 
rest." 

We  expressed  our  appreciation  of  his 
courtesy  and  General  Kelly's  thoughtfulness. 

"  What  is  all  this?  "  he  asked,  pointing  to 
our  ambulance,  baggage  wagon,  and  impa- 
tient driver. 

We  explained  that  they  were  the  conve- 
niences furnished  us  by  General  Kelly. 

"  But  you  surely  do  not  propose  starting 
off  in  such  weather  as  this,  ladies?  " 

I  have  neglected  to  say  that  it  had  been 
storming  since  daybreak. 

"  The  driver  has  been  beating  on  the  doors 
since  before  day,"  somebody  said. 

"  He  has,  has  he?  Then  he  has  exceeded 
his  instructions.  He  had  no  right  whatever 
to  disturb  you,  ladies.     I  will  see  that  he  is 

reported." 

203 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

He  called  the  driver  and  reprimanded  him 
sharply. 

"  Pray  don't  feel  that  you  must  leave  us  in 
such  weather  as  this,  ladies,"  he  continued 
with  the  utmost  kindness.  "  Stay  here  a 
week  if  you  like.  That  ambulance  and 
wagon  and  those  men  and  horses  are  at 
your  service  as  long  as  you  choose  to  keep 
them  here,  and  we  will  be  glad  to  do  what- 
ever we  may  for  your  comfort  or  pleasure 
until  it  suits  your  own  convenience  to  leave 
us." 

We  hardly  knew  how  to  thank  this 
princely  young  enemy,  but  we  insisted  that 
the  driver  should  not  be  punished,  and  that 
we  should  be  allowed  to  proceed  on  our 
journey,  as  we  were  anxious  to  reach  our 
friends  and  kindred. 

He  rode  in  our  ambulance  with  us  to  his 
headquarters,  where  we  were  joined  by  our 
other  charming  enemy,  and,  making  our 
adieux  to  the  gallant  and  handsome  colonel, 
continued  our  journey. 

During    the     day    something    happened 
to    Captain    Goldsborough's    watch,    and   it 
stopped  running,  much  to  his  annoyance. 
204 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  time  it  is," 
he  said. 

I  pulled  my  watch  out  and  held  it  open 
for  him  to  see  the  time.  I  could  have  told 
him  what  hour  it  was.  I  don't  know  what 
made  me  such  a  reckless  little  creature  in 
those  days.  The  watch  I  held  to  him  had  a 
tiny  Confederate  flag  pasted  inside.  My 
companions  had  either  secreted  their  watches 
or  were  not  traveling  with  them.  I  had  been 
urged  to  do  the  same,  but  had  openly  worn 
my  watch  ever  since  leaving  Baltimore. 
Captain  Goldsborough  saw  the  hour,  and  he 
saw  the  flag  also.  He  stared  at  me  in  utter 
amazement. 

"  You  are  brave — or  reckless,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  this  is  contraband  goods,  and, 
according  to  your  ideas,  treasonable.  Will 
you  confiscate  it? "  quietly  holding  it  out 
again. 

His  face  flushed. 

"Not  I!  but  some  one  else  might.  You 
are  not  prudent  to  wear  that  openly." 

And  I  was  so  ashamed  of  myself  for  hurt- 
ing his  feelings  that  I  made  amends  in  rather 
too  warm  terms,  I  am  afraid,  considering 
205 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

that  he  didn't  know  I  was  married  and  a 
privileged  character. 

"  You  are  traveling  in  the  wrong  direc- 
tion, /  think,  Miss  Duncan,"  he  ventured  to 
say  after  awhile.  "  You  shouldn't  leave  the 
North  and  go  south  now." 

"Why?" 

"  I — I  shouldn't  think  you  would  receive 
the  attention  there  just  now  that  is  your  due. 
You  are  young  and  fond  of  society,  I  im- 
agine. And — there  are  so  few  beaux  in  the 
South  now —  I  shouldn't  think  you  would 
like  that." 

"  Really? " 

"  I  mean  that  I  wish  you  would  stay  up 
North  where  it  is  pleasanter.  It's  so — uncom- 
fortable down  South.  You  are  so  young, 
you  see,  you  ought  to  have  a  chance  to  enjoy 
life  a  little.  I — I  wish  you  were  up  here — 
and  I  could  add  a  little  to  your  happiness.  I 
— I  mean,"  catching  a  glance  which  warned 
him,  "  it  is  must  be  dull  for  you  in  the  South 
— no  beaux — no  nothing." 

"All  the  beaux  are  in  the  field,"  I  re- 
torted, "  where  they  ought  to  be.  I  wouldn't 
have  a  beau  who  wasn't,  and  if  I  were  a 
206 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

Northern  girl  I  wouldn't  have  a  man  who 
didn't  wear  a  uniform — though,  I  think,  it 
ought  to  be  gray." 

"  I  expect  you  have  a  sweetheart  down 
South  whom  you  expect  to  see  when  you  get 
home.  That  is  why  your  heart  has  been  so 
set  on  getting  back." 

"  If  I  had  a  sweetheart  down  South  I 
couldn't  see  him  when  I  got  back  home,  for 
he  would  be  in  the  field." 

"  So,  your  sweetheart  is  a  Southern  sol- 
dier? "  wistfully. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  a  sweetheart  who 
wasn't  a  soldier — a  Southern  soldier." 

In  the  other  side  of  my  watch  I  had 
pasted  a  small  picture  of  Dan  in  uniform.  I 
opened  this  side  and  held  it  out  to  my  com- 
panion. 

"  That's  my  sweetheart's  picture." 

He  looked  at  it  long  and  hard.  "  A  good- 
looking  fellow,"  he  said,  "  and  I  have  no 
doubt  a  gallant  soldier.  If  I  ever  meet  him 
in  battle — he  will  be  safe  from  my  bullet." 

Behind  our  wagon  all  the  way  from  Har- 
per's Ferry  had  come  a  party  equipped  like 
Ourselves.  They  were  Jews,  and,  as  we  were 
207 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

informed,  were  prisoners  of  the  United 
States.  They  had  an  ambulance  like  ours,  a 
baggage  wagon  like  ours,  and  a  similar 
escort  of  five  infantry  perched  on  trunks. 
Their  escort  who  rode  inside,  however,  was 
not  so  attractive  as  ours.  We  felt  and  ex- 
pressed much  commiseration  for  them  because 
they  were  prisoners — "  those  poor  Jews,"  we 
called  them. 

We  were  all  suffering  the  consequences 
of  late  and  early  hours,  and  of  the  worry  and 
excitement  at  Harper's  Ferry.  I  felt  almost 
ill,  and  when  Miss  Oglesby,  whose  home  was 
in  Winchester,  invited  us  to  spend  a  week 
with  her,  we  concluded  that  we  would  accept 
her  hospitality  until  better  able  to  continue 
our  journey. 

Winchester  was  the  most  difficult  of  all 
places  for  Southerners  to  pass  through  at  this 
time,  and  we  could  not  possibly  have  gotten 
through  if  we  had  been  left  to  our  own  re- 
sources. Milroy  was  commandant,  and  his 
name  was  a  terror.  He  belonged  to  the  Ben 
Butler  of  New  Orleans  type.  Some  time  near 
the  middle  of  the  day  we  drew  up  in  front 
of  Milroy's  headquarters.  Immediately  be- 
208 


Prisoners  of  the  United  States 

hind  us  came  the  Jews  and  their  belong- 
ings. They  did  not  go  in  with  us,  and  I 
supposed  they  were  awaiting  their  turn. 
General  Milroy  was  absent,  off  on  a  fight,  and 
we  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  adjutant,  a  dap- 
per little  fellow.  We  heard  him  talking  to 
Goldsborough  of  the  recent  fight  and  victory, 
and  heard  him  making  arrangements  for  our 
transportation. 

Here  we  thought  it  proper  to  inform  him 
that  we  were  going  to  remain  a  week  in  Win- 
chester. 

"  You  can  not  remain  here,"  he  said. 
"  You  go  on  immediately." 

"  Oh,  no!  "  we  said,  "  we're  not  going  on 
now.  We  are  going  to  stop  here  for  a  visit 
and  until  we  are  rested." 

"  You  are  prisoners  and  under  orders. 
You  go  at  once — "  he  began  bruskly. 

"  Oh,  no!"  we  interrupted,  eager  to  en- 
lighten him,  for  we  saw  he  had  made  a  very 
natural  mistake.  "  We  are  not  prisoners. 
Those  poor  Jews  out  there,  they  are  prison- 
ers. We  are  going  to  stop  here  on  a  little 
visit." 

"  You  don't  stop  here  an  hour.  This  is 
209 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Miss  Oglesby's  destination,  and  she  stops, 
but  the  rest  of  you  go  on — now." 

He  looked  as  if  he  thought  us  demented. 
Goldsborough  kept  making  faces  at  us,  but 
we  were  so  anxious  to  correct  the  adjutant's 
mistake  that  we  had  no  attention  to  bestow 
elsewhere.  We  thought  we  had  never  seen 
so  stupid  a  man  as  that  adjutant. 

"  We  are  not  the  prisoners,"  we  insisted. 
"  Those  Jews  out  there " 

Here  he  told  Captain  Goldsborough  to 
conduct  "  these  prisoners "  down-stairs  and 
into  the  ambulance  provided  for  them. 
"  You  will  not  go  far  before  you  meet  a  de- 
tachment of  cavalry  on  their  way  to  this 
place,"  he  informed  Captain  Goldsborough, 
and  then  instructed  him  to  turn  back  of  these 
a  sufficient  escort  for  our  party. 

We  were  in  a  perfect  rage  as  Captain 
Goldsborough  led  us  down-stairs.  We 
thought  Milroy's  adjutant  the  very  rudest 
and  stupidest  person  we  had  ever  seen. 


210 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

WITHIN     OUR     LINES 

After  leaving  the  saucy  and  peremptory 
adjutant  we  were  shown  into  the  handsomest 
ambulance  I  have  ever  seen.  I  suppose  the 
one  we  had  been  using  was  returned  to  Har- 
per's Ferry  or  left  at  Winchester  for  the 
horses  to  rest  until  Captain  Goldsborough's 
return.  At  any  rate,  we  were  in  new  quar- 
ters, and  very  elegant  ones  they  were.  The 
sides  and  seats  were  cushioned  and  padded, 
and  it  was  really  a  luxurious  coach.  It  was 
drawn  by  four  large  black  horses  with  coats 
like  silk.  There  was  a  postilion  on  the  seat, 
and  beside  him  sat  a  small  boy  who  kept 
peeping  behind  us  and  into  the  woods  on  all 
sides,  and  as  far  ahead  as  possible.  I  didn't 
know  what  he  was  trying  to  see  or  rind  out, 
but  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was 
there  to  "  peep  "  on  general  principles. 

As   soon   as   we   were   seated   we   asked 

211 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Captain  Goldsborough  what  upon  earth  that 
impertinent  adjutant  meant  by  referring  to 
us  as  "  prisoners,"  and  ordering  us  about  so. 

Whereupon  he  explained  with  much  em- 
barrassment and  many  apologies  that  we  were 
really  prisoners — that  General  Kelly  could 
not  have  sent  us  through  without  the  formal- 
ity of  putting  us  under  arrest. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said  in  an  aside  to  me,  "  that 
I  didn't  have  to  release  you." 

Of  course  we  were  perfectly  satisfied  to 
be  General  Kelly's  prisoners  under  such  cir- 
cumstances. In  fact,  we  charged  Captain 
Goldsborough  to  tell  him  how  nice  we 
thought  it  was  to  be  put  under  arrest  by  him. 

We  withdrew  our  charges  against  the  ad- 
jutant, and  even  acknowledged  that  there 
was  kindness  in  the  pert  little  Yankee's  tell- 
ing us  to  "  holler  for  Jeff  Davis  and  we'd  get 
sent  on  quick  enough." 

Six  miles  from  Winchester  we  met  the  de- 
tachment of  cavalry  to  which  Milroy's  ad- 
jutant had  referred.  It  was  a  magnificent- 
looking  body  of  men,  handsomely  uniformed 
and  mounted.  As  they  were  about  to  dash 
past  us  Captain  Goldsborough  halted  them, 
212 


Within  Our  Lines 

gave  an  order,  and  instantly  thirty  riders 
wheeled  out  of  line  and  surrounded  the  am- 
bulance, the  others  riding  on  without  a  break 
in  their  movements.  Captain  Goldsborough 
had  gotten  out  of  the  ambulance  some 
minutes  before  we  met  the  detachment  of 
cavalry,  and  was  sitting  with  the  driver,  hav- 
ing sent  the  little  boy  inside.  It  sounds 
rather  a  formidable  position  for  a  Southern 
woman,  a  blockade-runner,  in  a  Yankee  am- 
bulance, and  surrounded  by  thirty  Yankees 
armed  to  the  teeth;  but  I  was  never  safer  in 
my  life.  The  little  boy  was  in  a  state  of  ter- 
ror that  would  have  been  amusing  if  it  had 
not  been  pitiful. 

"  What  are  all  these  men  around  the 
ambulance  for?  "  I  asked.  He  didn't  look  as 
if  he  could  get  his  wits  together  at  once. 

"  Are  they  afraid  we  will  get  away?  "  I 
continued. 

"  Oh,  no'm!  no'm!  "  he  answered,  his  eyes 
as  big  as  saucers.  "  There's  been  lots  of 
fightin' — an'  there's  rebels  all  along  here  in 
the  woods — and  they'd  come  out  and  take 
this  here  ambulance  an'  these  here  horses — an' 
we  all,  an'  you  all,  an'  all  of  us!" 
213 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

A  novel  position,  truly,  Yankees  protect- 
ing us  against  our  own  soldiers!  We  met 
another  company  of  soldiers,  and  alas!  we 
could  turn  back  none  of  them.  They  were  not 
mounted,  they  were  not  handsomely  uni- 
formed. From  the  windows  of  our  ambu- 
lance we  looked  out  on  them  with  tearful 
eyes,  and  waved  our  handkerchiefs  to  them; 
but  their  heads  were  bowed,  and  they  did  not 
see  us.  They  would  hardly  have  believed  we 
were  prisoners  if  they  had  seen  us,  for  our 
escort  of  Union  cavalry  the  whole  time  they 
guarded  us  treated  us  as  if  we  were  queens. 
Not  one  profane  word  did  we  hear — not  a  syl- 
lable that  breathed  anything  but  respect  and 
kindly  feeling. 

At  Newtown  we  were  released  and  were 
Union  prisoners  no  longer,  but  Southern 
travelers  close  to  the  Southern  lines  and  on 
our  own  responsibility.  Captain  Goldsbor- 
ough  bade  us  adieu,  saying  that  he  was  sorry 
he  could  not  take  us  farther,  but  that  his 
orders  compelled  him  to  turn  back  here,  and 
we  poured  out  our  gratitude  to  him  and  to 
Colonel  McReynolds  and  General  Kelly  by 
him.  He  put  a  little  sentiment  into  a  farewell 
214 


Within  Our  Lines 

pressure  of  my  hand,  and  I  am  afraid  I  put  a 
great  deal  too  much  gratitude  and  penitence 
into  my  eyes.  My  genius  for  friendship  had 
asserted  itself,  and  I  was  fast  learning  to  give 
him  a  companion  niche  in  my  heart  with  Cap- 
tains Hosmer  and  Locke.  Another  day  with 
him,  and  I  would  have  told  him  I  was  mar- 
ried, showed  him  Dan's  picture,  bored  him 
with  Dan,  and  found  in  him  all  the  better 
friend  and  good  comrade. 

Our  hearts  sank  as  our  gallant  bluecoat, 
our  cozy  ambulance,  and  our  cavalry  guard 
left  us,  three  lonely  women  in  the  tavern  at 
Newtown.  We  spent  the  night  there,  and 
the  next  morning  secured,  with  much  diffi- 
culty, a  small,  uncovered,  one-horse  wagon  to 
take  us  on  our  journey.  We  were  very  much 
crowded.  Our  trunks  were  piled  up  in  it — 
mother's,  Mrs.  Drummond's,  and  my  own.  I 
made  mother  as  comfortable  as  possible,  and 
Mrs.  Drummond  carefully  made  herself  so, 
while  I  sat  on  the  seat  with  the  driver,  a 
trunk  sticking  in  my  back  all  the  way.  I 
had  to  sit  almost  double  because  of  the  trunk, 
the  wagon  being  so  small  that  no  other  ar- 
rangement was  possible. 
J5         *        215 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Rain  had  fallen  plentifully  here.  The  day 
was  one  of  fogs  and  mists  with  occasional  light 
showers,  the  roads  were  muddy  and  seamed 
with  ruts,  over  which  the  wagon  jogged  up 
and  down,  and  I  jogged  with  it,  feeling  as  if 
my  back  would  break  in  two  and  almost  wish- 
ing it  would  and  end  my  misery.  About  nine 
of  that  miserable  wet  night  we  hailed  with 
eager,  glad,  tired  hearts  and  eyes  the  lights 
of  Woodstock.  Here  we  knew  we  should 
find  Southern  forces  encamped,  here  we 
knew  we  should  be  at  home  among  our  own 
people.  Just  outside  the  town  a  voice  rang 
through  the  darkness  : 

"Halt!" 

A  sentry  stood  in  our  path. 

"  We  are  Southerners,"  we  said.  "  Let  us 
pass." 

"  Where  are  your  papers?  " 

"  Papers?  We  haven't  any  papers.  We 
are  Southerners,  we  tell  you  —  Southern 
ladies,  and  we  are  in  a  hurry,  and  you  must 
let  us  pass  right  now." 

"  I  can't  do  it.  Show  your  papers  or  turn 
back." 

We  set  up  a  wail. 

216 


Within  Our  Lines 

"  Here,  we've  come  all  the  way  from  Bal- 
timore, and  the  Yankees  have  sent  us  and 
have  brought  Us  all  the  way  in  a  fine  ambu- 
lance and  cavalry  escorts  and  big  horses  and 
gold  lace  and  everything,  and  now  we've  got 
home,  and  our  own  people  won't  let  us  in! 
tell  us  to  turn  back!  " 

The  sentry  seemed  impressed.  Rags  and 
musket,  he  was  a  pathetic  if  stern  figure  as  he 
stood  in  that  lonely,  muddy  road  in  the  glare 
of  our  driver's  lantern. 

But  he  was  firm.  He  told  us  that  he  was 
obeying  orders  and  could  not  let  us  by  since 
we  had  no  passes. 

"  I'm  so  tired,  and  my  back  is  almost 
broken  with  this  trunk  sticking  into  it,"  I 
moaned. 

"  That  ain't  comfortable,"  he  admitted, 
but  his  resolute  position  in  the  middle  of  the 
road  showed  that  we  couldn't  pass,  all  the 
same. 

"  Look  here,"  I  said,  plucking  up  some  of 
my  accustomed  spirit,  "  do  you  know  that 
my  husband  is  an  officer  in  the  Confederate 
army?    My  husband  is  Captain  Grey." 

"  Can't  help  it.    Got  to  obey  orders." 
217 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  And  my  brother,"  said  Mrs.  Drum- 
mond,  "  is  a  colonel  in  the  Confederate  army. 

To  think  that  / — I,  the  sister  of  Colonel , 

am  told  that  I  can't  pass  here!  " 

"Law,  ma'am!  that's  my  colonel!"  said 
the  man.  "  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  ladies. 
I'll  send  a  note  in  to  the  colonel  and  see  what 
he  says  about  it." 

So  we  waited  till  he  found  a  passer-by  who 
would  be  a  messenger;  and  then  we  waited 
until  the  messenger  replied  to  the  note,  and 
we  were  permitted  to  pass. 

Soon  after  we  reached  the  tavern  the 
news  of  our  arrival  and  exploits  got  abroad 
and  soon  the  little  tavern  parlor  was  filled 
with  people  listening  to  the  tales  of  the  block- 
ade-runners who  were  just  from  Yankeeland, 
bringing  a  trunk  or  two  full  of  clothes.  The 
news  of  our  doughty  deeds  spread  from  house 
to  house,  and  soldiers  gathered  in  front  of  the 
tavern  and  gave  us  ringing  cheers,  and  wel- 
comed us  home  with  all  their  lung  power. 
Poor,  ragged  fellows!  how  I  did  wish  that 
mother  and  I  had  worn  home  a  hundred  or 
two  more  Balmorals! 

The  next  morning  we  left  Woodstock. 
218 


Within  Our  Lines 

We  were  traveling  now  in  a  comfortable 
spring  wagon,  and  made  good  time,  reaching 
Harrisonburg  in  time  to  take  the  train  for 
Staunton. 

As  we  sat  in  the  parlor  of  the  hotel  in 
Staunton  who  should  walk  in  but  an  old 
friend  and  cousin  of  Dan's,  Lieutenant  Nel- 
son !  But  he  could  tell  me  nothing  about  Dan 
— he  did  not  even  know  where  he  could  be 
found.  This  was  just  before  the  second  bat- 
tle of  the  Wilderness,  and  the  cavalry  was  be- 
ing shifted  constantly  from  place  to  place. 
But  if  Lieutenant  Nelson  could  tell  us  noth- 
ing, he  was  greatly  interested  in  our  exploits. 
We  told  him  of  the  Balmorals  with  pride. 

"  And  here  are  two  shirts  for  Dan,"  I  said, 
pulling  at  our  long  scarfs.  "  Just  think  of 
our  getting  through  with  a  full  uniform — 
cloth,  brass  buttons,  gold  lace,  and  all!  " 

As  at  Woodstock,  the  story  of  our  prow- 
ess spread.  It  went  from  one  person  to  an- 
other until  the  soldiers  got  hold  of  it,  and 
gathered  around  the  hotel  and  more  ringing 
cheers  were  given  us. 

The  next  morning  we  took  the  train  for 
Richmond — but  we  did  not  get  there. 
219 


A  Virginia  GrRL  in  the  Civil  War 

At  Lindseys  Station,  just  before  we 
reached  Gordonsville,  a  man  in  the  uniform 
of  the  Thirteenth  got  on. 

I  called  him  to  me. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  the  Thirteenth 
is?" 

"  Yes'm.  We  Icf  'em  'bout  the  aige  of 
Culpeper,  yistiddy.  Lor'm!  we've  had  times!  " 

"  What  was  the  matter?  " 

"  We  been  havin'  a  heap  o'  fightin'.  The 
kurnel,  he  warn't  thar  at  Beverly  Ford,  an' 
we  didn't  have  but  one  squadron,  an'  the  ad- 
jutant, he  led  the  charge  an'  he  sholy  come 
mighty  nigh  gittin'  killed.  Lor'm !  what's  the 
matter  with  ye?  " 

"  Nothing!  Go  on!  Make  haste,  tell  me 
— make  haste.    The  adjutant " 

"  His  horse  got  shot  under  him,  an'  his 
courier  ridin'  right  'longside  o'  him  got 
killed,  an'  the  adjutant  warn't  hurt,  not  a  mite. 
But,  Lor'm!  that  was  sholy  a  narrer  wcape! 
An'  they  say  that  the  adjutant'll  git  pro- 
moted." 

Didn't  I  say  so?  Didn't  I  think  of  that 
when  I  got  the  uniform? 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said  to  the  man.  "  You 
220 


Within  Our  Lines 

bring  me  the  first  news  I  have  had  of  my 
husband  for  a  long  time." 

"  Good  gracious!  you  ain't  our  adjutant's 
wife?" 

"  Yes,  I  am.  And  I  am  glad  to  meet  one 
of  his  soldiers.  And  you  are  the  first  to  tell 
me  good  news." 

"  Lor'm,  now,  ain't  I  proud  o'  that!  An' 
you  our  adjutant's  wife.  You  don't  say!  An' 
I  jes  been  a-tellin'  you  how  it  was  a'mos'  a 
mi-racle  that  you  warn't  a  widder  'oman! 
An'  you  never  let  on !  But  I  see  you  changed 
your  face,  marm,  when  I  tole  'bout  his  pretty 
nigh  gitting  shot.  Yes,  marm;  the  adjutant 
charged  beautiful!  he  jes  rid  right  squar  into 
'em,  an'  he  made  the  Yankees  git!  " 

"  How  long  do  you  think  the  Thirteenth 
will  remain  in  Culpeper?  " 

"  That  I  couldn't  say  for  certain,  marm. 
They  mought  be  thar  for  a  day  or  two,  an' 
they  mought  be  thar  longer.  You  can't  al- 
ways tell  much  'bout  what  the  cavalry  gwine 
to  do.  But  we's  sho  proud  o'  the  adjutant, 
marm.  Ginral  Lee  an'  Ginral  Stuart  an' 
Kunnel  Chambliss  all  give  him  the  praise." 

It  was  after  this  battle  that  Dan  was  pro- 
221 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

moted  to  the  rank  of  major,  "  for  gallant 
conduct." 

I  bade  the  soldier  a  hurried  good-by  and 
went  to  the  conductor. 

"  My  husband's  regiment  is  in  Culpep- 
er,"  I  said;  "  I  have  just  heard  it  from  one 
of  his  men,  and  I  want  you  to  put  me  off  at 
Gordonsville.  I  have  decided  not  to  go  on  to 
Richmond,  but  to  take  the  next  train  to  Cul- 
peper." 

"  The  next  train  to  Culpeper,  ma'am — 
I  think  the  next  train  for  Culpeper  passes 
Gordonsville  at  four  in  the  afternoon. 
There's  no  train  before  that,  I  know,  and  I 
am  not  sure  that  there's  one  at  four.  There's 
no  tavern  nor  anything  to  put  you  down  at — 
I'll  just  have  to  set  you  out  on  the  roadside." 

And  it  was  on  a  red  roadside  that  we  and 
our  baggage  were  set  down,  on  a  bank  of  red 
mud,  and  there  sat  we  on  top  of  them  as  the 
train  rolled  away.  The  conductor  left  us  re- 
gretfully. 

"  Maybe  you  might  get  accommodations 
at  that  house  up  there,  ma'am,"  he  had  said, 
pointing  to  the  only  house  in  sight,  a  two- 
story  white  dwelling  about  a  quarter  of  a 
222 


Within  Our  Lines 

mile  distant.  "  I  don't  know  what  else  you'll 
do  if  that  train  don't  come  along  at  four." 

This  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Four  o'clock  came,  but  no  train.  We  waited 
faithfully  for  it,  but  it  did  not  come  at  all. 
At  last  we  gave  up  hope  and  paid  a  boy  to 
carry  our  trunks  to  the  house  on  the  hill.  I 
shall  never  forget  our  reception  at  that  house. 
At  first  they  refused  to  take  us  at  all.  After 
arguing  the  point  with  them  and  placing  our 
necessities  before  them,  and  promising  to  pay 
them  anything  they  might  wish,  we  were 
thankful  to  get  a  gruff: 

"  Come  in." 

We  were  shown  to  a  room  and  shut  in 
like  horses.  There  was  not  even  a  fire  made 
for  us.  We  had  been  warmer  sitting  on 
the  roadside  in  the  sunshine.  I  will  pass 
over  the  supper  in  silence.  We  had  had  no 
dinner  and  were  hungry,  and  we  ate  for  our 
part  of  that  supper  the  upper  crust  of  a  bis- 
cuit each.  A  hard  bed,  the  upper  crusts  of 
two  biscuits,  no  fire — this  was  what  we  got 
at  that  house.  The  next  morning  we  left  be- 
fore breakfast  and  went  back  to  our  mud- 
bank  in  the  sun,  first  asking  for  our  bill 
223 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

and  paying  it.     It  was  two  dollars  apiece  in 
gold! 

The  train  came  along  early,  however,  and 
we  were  on  it,  and  off  to  Culpeper,  all  our 
troubles  forgotten,  for  every  mile  was  bring- 
ing us  nearer  to  Dan.  As  soon  as  we  got  off 
I  saw  quite  a  number  of  soldiers  belonging  to 
Dan's  command.  Many  of  them  were  known 
to  me  personally.  They  came  up  and  wel- 
comed me  back  to  Dixie,  and  congratulated 
me  on  my  husband's  gallantry  and  probable 
promotion,  and  I  sent  word  to  Dan  by  them 
that  I  was  there. 

He  came — the  raggedest,  most  widowed- 
looking  officer!     But  weren't  we  happy! 

"Oh,  Dan!"  I  cried,  after  the  first  rap- 
ture of  greeting,  "  I  got  it  so  it  -would  do  for 
a  captain  or  a  major  or  a  colonel  or  a  general. 
Didn't  I  do  right?  " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Nell?  Got 
what?" 

He  looked  as  if  he  feared  recent  adven- 
tures had  unsettled  my  intellect. 

"  Your  uniform,  Dan,"  I  answered,  but 
my  countenance  fell. 

"  My — uniform." 

224 


Within  Our  Lines 

Just  like  a  man!  He  had  forgotten  the 
principal  thing — next  to  seeing  mother,  of 
course — that  I  had  gone  to  Baltimore  for. 

"  Your  uniform,  Dan.  I've  got  it  on. 
Here  it  is,"  and  I  lifted  my  skirt  and  showed 
him  my  Balmoral.  "  Isn't  it  a  beautiful 
cloth?  And  I  have  kept  it  just  as  nice — not 
a  fleck  of  mud  on  it.  And  here  are  the  but- 
tons on  my  cloak,  and  I  have  the  gold  lace 
in  mother's  satchel,  and " 

"  Nell,  dear,  I  haven't  time  to  talk  about 
uniforms  now.  You  will  sleep  here  to-night. 
To-morrow  I  will  try  to  get  a  room  for  you 
at  Mr.  Bradford's.  I  will  come  in  the  morn- 
ing or  send  you  word  what  to  do.  I  am  so 
sorry  to  go,  but  I  can't  stay  a  minute  longer. 
Good-by,  my  darling." 

I  was  waked  the  next  morning  by  a  voice 
under  my  window  calling: 

"  Miss  Nell!  O  Miss  Nell!  "  and  looking 
out  I  saw  Dan's  body-servant,  Sam,  successor 
to  poor  Josh,  who  had  died  of  smallpox. 

"  Mars  Dan  say,  I  fotch  his  love  to  you, 

an'  tell  you  you  git  right  on  dem  nex'  kyars 

an'  go  straight  on  ter  Orange  Court-house, 

case  dar's  too  much  fightin'  'roun'  here.    An* 

225 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

he  gwine  notify  you  dar  when  you  kin  come 
back.  But  he  say  dat  if  you  hear  dar's  fight- 
in'  'roun'  Orange  Court-house,  den  you  go 
straight  on  ter  Richmond,  an'  don't  you  stop 
untwell  you  git  dar." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  go,  Sam." 

"  But  Mars  Dan  he  say  tell  you  p'intedly 
you  mus'." 

"  Ain't  he  coming  to  tell  me  good-by, 
Sam?" 

"  Law,  Miss  Nell !  how  he  gwine  do  dat 
when  de  Yankees  is  er — overrunnin'  de  whole 
yuth?  What's  guine  ter  become  uv  de  country 
ef  de  major  leave  off  fitten  de  Yankees  to 
humorfy  you?  " 

I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me,  sad  as  my 
heart  was,  keep  from  laughing  at  being  taken 
to  task  by  Sam. 

"  Is  it  so  bad  as  that,  Sam?  " 

"  Yes'm,  dat  'tis!  Mars  Dan  say  he  'fraid 
de  Yankees  git  in  de  town  hyer  fo'  night.  De 
Yankees  is  er  pressin'  we  all  close." 

"  I  can't  see  your  master  at  all  before  I 
go,  Sam?  " 

"Law,  Miss  Nell;  ain't  I  done  tole  you 
dat?  De  country  will  go  to  de  dawgs  ef  de 
226 


Within  Our  Lines 

major  stop  fitten  de  Yankees  to  humorfy 
you." 

"  If  your  master  gets  hurt,  Sam,  will  you 
get  me  word?  " 

"  Law,  yes,  Miss  Nell!     I  sholy  will." 

"  And  you'll  take  care  of  him,  Sam?  " 

"  Dat's  jes  what  I  gwine  to  do,  Miss 
Nell.    Me  leP  de  major  ef  he  git  hu't!  shuh!  " 

"  Good-by,  Sam.  Tell  your  master  I'm 
gone." 

"  Yes'm.  He'll  sho  be  p'intedly  glad  ter 
heah  dat!" 

Just  fifteen  minutes  in  which  to  catch  the 
train.  We  threw  things  pell-mell  into  our 
trunks — there  was  no  vehicle  to  be  had — 
paid  a  man  to  drag  them  to  the  depot,  and 
were  on  our  way  to  Orange  in  less  than  half 
an  hour.  And  I  had  seen  Dan,  all  told,  per- 
haps fifteen  minutes! 

At  Orange  we  found  everything  in  con- 
fusion, and  everybody  who  could  get  out 
leaving  the  town.  The  story  went  that  the 
Yankee  cavalry  under  Stoneman  would  soon 
be  in  possession  of  it.  We  were  glad  enough 
to  keep  our  seats  and  go  straight  through  to 
Richmond,  and  it  was  well  that  we  did,  for 
227 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

behind  us  came  Stoneman's  cavalry  close  on 
our  heels  and  tearing  up  bridges  as  they 
came.  The  railroad  track  at  Trevillian's  was 
torn  up  just  after  we  passed  over  it.  Rich- 
mond was  in  a  state  of  great  excitement. 
Couriers  were  passing  to  and  fro  between  the 
army  and  the  executive  offices,  stirring  news 
kept  pouring  in,  and  the  newspapers  were  in 
a  fever.  Tidings  from  the  first  battle  of  the 
Wilderness  began  coming  in.  Lee's  army 
and  "  Fighting  Joe "  Hooker's  were  grap- 
pling with  each  other  there  like  tigers  in  a 
jungle.  Stuart,  our  great  cavalry  leader,  had 
caught  up  Jackson's  mantle  as  it  fell,  and  was 
riding  around  in  that  valley  of  death,  charging 
his  men  to  "  Remember  Jackson!  "  and  singing 
in  that  cheery  voice  of  his  which  only  death 
could  drown:  "  Old  Joe  Hooker,  won't  you 
Come  Out  of  the  Wilderness?  "  Then  came 
news  of  victory  and  Richmond  was  wild  with 
joy  and  wild  with  woe  as  well.  In  many  homes 
were  vacant  chairs  because  of  that  battle  in 
the  Wilderness,  and  from  Petersburg,  twenty 
miles  away,  came  the  sound  of  mourning, 
Rachel  weeping  for  her  children  and  refusing 
to  be  comforted  because  they  were  not. 
228 


Within  Our  Likes 

It  was  from  Petersburg  that  I  was  sum- 
moned to  Culpeper  by  Dan,  who  felt  that 
the  army  might  have  a  long  enough  breath- 
ing spell  there  for  me  to  pay  him  at  least  a 
visit.  When  I  got  to  Mr.  Bradford's,  where 
he  had  engaged  board  for  me,  I  found  Gen- 
eral Stuart's  headquarters  in  the  yard.  He 
and  his  staff  were  boarders  at  Mr.  Bradford's, 
and  I  ate  at  the  same  table  with  the  flower 
of  the  Southern  cavalry.  Unfortunately  for 
me,  Dan's  command  was  stationed  at  a  dis- 
tance of  several  miles,  and  I  could  not  see 
as  much  of  him  as  I  had  hoped.  He  met  me 
the  day  of  my  arrival,  rode  by  once  or  twice, 
took  one  or  two  meals  with  me,  and  then  it 
seemed  that  for  all  I  saw  of  him  I  might  as 
well  have  remained  in  Petersburg. 

My  seat  at  table  was  next  to  that  of  Gen- 
eral Stuart,  and  for  vis-a-vis  I  had  Colonel 
John  Esten  Cooke.  Colonel  Cooke  was  a 
glum  old  thing,  but  General  Stuart  was  so 
delightful  that  he  compensated  for  every- 
thing. In  a  short  time  I  was  completely  at 
my  ease  with  him,  and  long  before  he  left  I 
b^d  grown  to  love  and  trust  him. 


229 


CHAPTER    XIX 

MY    COMRADE   GENERAL   JEB    STUART 

One  day  General  Stuart  asked  me  in  a 
teasing  way: 

"  You  wouldn't  really  like  to  see  Dan 
Grey,  would  you?  " 

"  Oh,  but  I  would,  general,"  I  said,  in  too 
dead  earnest  to  give  raillery  for  raillery. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  really  want  to  see 
Dan  Grey." 

"  Well,  I  don't,  then,"  a  bit  sullenly. 

"  What  a  pity!  You  might  see  him  now, 
if  you  really  wanted  to." 

I  wouldn't  notice  such  a  frivolous  remark. 

Dinner  over,  we  went  out  on  the  veranda, 
as  usual,  and  General  Stuart  dropped  into  a 
chair  beside  me. 

"  I  really  thought  you  rather  liked  Dan 
Grey,  but  it  seems  I  was  mistaken.  And  you 
really  don't  want  to  see  him?  Sad — I  must 
tell  him  and  condole  with  him." 

I  tried  to  bury  myself  in  a  book  I  was 
230 


My  Comrade  General  Jeb  Stuart 

reading,  and  to  pay  no  attention  to  him.  A 
miserable  old  book  it  was — Children  of  the 
Abbey,  or  something  like  it — that  I  had 
picked  up  somewhere  at  Mr.  Bradford's. 
Hereafter,  if  I  write  "  Aunt  Sally's  "  instead 
of  Mr.  Bradford's,  please  understand  that  one 
and  the  same  place  is  meant.  Aunt  Sally  was 
Mr.  Bradford's  wife,  and  I  reckon  the  first 
term  best  describes  the  place. 

"  You  wouldn't  really  rather  have  Dan 
Grey  sitting  here  in  this  chair  beside  you  than 
me?  "  continued  my  tease. 

I  lifted  to  him  eyes  wet  with  vexation  and 
longing. 

"  I'll  make  you  smile  now! "  he  said. 
"  Do  you  want  to  see  Dan?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  want  to  see  him  dreadfully, 
but  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  so  again." 

"  You  will  if  I  command  you  to,  won't 
you?  If  you  are  in  the  cavalry  I  am  your 
superior  officer,  you  know.  I  can  even  make 
Dan  mind  what  I  say,  can't  I?  If  you  are 
refractory,  I  can  command  Dan  to  bring  you 
to  terms." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  Dan  do  it!  You  may  be 
commander-in-chief  of  the  cavalry,  but  you 
16  231 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

aren't  commander-in-chief  of  me  —  you  or 
Dan  either." 

"  It  seems  not,"  he  commented  meekly. 
"  You  are  the  most  insubordinate  little  rebel 
I  ever  saw.  I  have  a  great  mind  to  court- 
martial  you — no,  I  believe  I'll  send  for  Dan 
and  let  him  do  it." 

He  called  a  courier,  and  wrote  a  despatch 
in  regular  form,  ordering  Major  Dan  Grey  to 
report  at  once  to  General  Stuart.  Then  he 
added  a  little  private  note  to  Dan  which  had 
for  a  postscript: 

"  Sweet  Nellie  is  by  my  side." 

"That  will  bring  him  in  a  hurry!" 
laughed  Stuart. 

The  courier,  not  knowing  but  that  the 
fate  of  the  Confederacy  depended  upon  that 
despatch,  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  galloped 
down  the  road  and  out  of  sight.  I  suppose 
he  ran  his  horse  all  the  way,  and  that  Dan 
ran  his  all  the  way  back,  for  before  General 
Stuart  left  the  veranda  Dan  galloped  into 
the  yard. 

"I'll  get  the  first  kiss!"  said  General 
Stuart,  still  teasingly. 

232 


My  Comrade  General  Jeb  Stuart 

He  leaped  from  the  porch  and  ran  across 
the  yard,  I  tearing  after  him.  I  caught  up  and 
passed  him,  and  looking  back  at  him  from 
Dan's  arms,  into  which  I  had  stumbled, 
breathless  and  panting,  I  laughed  out:  "  I 
can  beat  the  Yankees  getting  out  of  your 
way! " 

Perhaps  this  race  and  General  Stuart's 
love  of  teasing  may  seem  undignified  conduct 
for  the  chief  of  the  Southern  cavalry,  but  it  is 
history  and  it  is  fun,  and  those  who  knew  him 
did  not  fail  in  respect  to  Stuart.  Many  of 
us  loved  the  ground  he  walked  on.  His  boy- 
ish spirits  and  his  genial,  sunny  tempera- 
ment helped  to  make  him  the  idol  of  the 
cavalry  and  the  inspiration  of  his  soldiers, 
and  kept  heart  in  them  no  matter  what  hap- 
pened. 

That  was  a  lovely  evening.  General 
Stuart  had  Sweeny,  his  banjo-player,  in. 
Sweeny  was  a  dignified,  solemn-looking  man, 
but  couldn't  he  play  merry  tunes  on  that 
banjo,  and  sad  ones  too!  making  you  laugh 
and  cry  with  his  playing  and  his  singing. 

"  When  the  sad,  chilly  winds  of  December 
Stole  my  flowers,  my  companions,  from  me." 

233 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

That  was  one  of  his  mournful  favorites. 
And  you  heard  the  jingle  of  spurs  in  his  rol- 
licking: 

"  If  you  want  a  good  time, 
Jine  the  cavalry, 

Bully  boys,  hey ! " 

We  called  for  "  Old  Joe  Hooker,  won't 
you  Come  Out  of  the  Wilderness?  "  and  "  O 
Johnny  Booker,  help  this  Nigger!"  and  "O 
Lord,  Ladies,  don't  you  mind  Stephen!" 
and  "Sweet  Evelina,"  and — oh!  I  can't  re- 
member them  all,  but  if  you  choose  to  read 
Esten  Cooke,  he  will  tell  you  all  about 
Sweeny's  songs  and  banjo.  Stuart  sang 
"  The  Dew  is  on  the  Blossom  "  and  "  The 
Bugles  sang  Truce."  He  made  Sweeny  give, 
twice  over,  "  Sweet  Nellie  is  by  my  Side," 
and  sat  himself  down  beside  me,  and  tried  to 
tease  Dan  because  he  sat  at  table  with  me 
every  day  and  Dan  couldn't.  In  spite  of 
everything  I  was  very  happy  in  those  old 
days  at  the  Bradfords'!  I  was  not  yet  out 
of  my  teens,  you  know;  so  I  hope  I  was  not 
very  much  to  blame  because  I  was  always 
ready  for  a  romp  across  that  lawn  at  Mr. 
Bradford's  with  the  commander-in-chief  of 
234 


My  Comrade  General  Jeb  Stuart 

the  Southern  cavalry.  His  was  the  gentlest, 
merriest,  sweetest-tempered  soul  I  ever  knew. 
He  was  always  ready  to  sympathize  with 
me,  to  tease  me,  and  to  help  me.  Whenever 
he  teased  me  out  of  conceit  with  myself  or 
him,  he  always  would  put  me  in  a  good  hu- 
mor by  saying  nice  things  about  Dan,  or 
sending  a  courier  after  him. 

He  had  an  idea  that  I  was  very  plucky, 
and  in  after  days  when  I  was  ready  to  show 
the  white  feather,  Dan  would  shame  me  by 
asking,  "  What  would  General  Stuart  say?  " 

Mr.  Bradford  and  his  wife,  "  Aunt  Sally," 
were  characters.  Mr.  Bradford  was  a  very 
quiet,  peaceable  man;  Aunt  Sally  was  strong- 
minded,  and  had  a  tongue  and  mind  of  her 
own.  Mr.  Bradford  had  a  good  deal  of  prop- 
erty and  stayed  out  of  the  army  to  take  care 
of  it.  I  think  Aunt  Sally  made  him  stay  out 
of  the  war  for  this  reason,  but  she  made  home 
about  as  hot  for  him  as  the  field  would  have 
been.  I  can't  think  he  stayed  at  home  to  keep 
out  of  war,  for  he  was  in  war  all  the  time. 
Aunt  Sally  continually  twitted  him  with 
staying  at  home,  although  she  made  him 
do  it.  She  was  always  sure  to  do  this  when 
235 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

the  table  was  filled  with  Confederate  offi- 
cers. 

"  The  place  for  a  wan,"  she  would  say, 
"  is  on  the  field.  Just  give  me  the  chance  to 
fight!  Just  give  me  the  chance  to  fight,  and 
see  where  I'll  be!  " 

And  General  Stuart  would  convulse  me 
by  whispering:  "  I  don't  think  she  needs  a 
chance  to  fight,  do  you?  " 

Sometimes  when  Aunt  Sally's  harangue 
would  begin  the  general  would  whisper, 
"  Aunt  Sally's  getting  herself  in  battle  array," 
or  "  The  batteries  have  limbered  up,"  or 
"  Aunt  Sally's  scaled  the  breastworks,"  and 
Mr.  Bradford's  meek  and  inoffensive  face 
would  make  the  situation  funnier.  He  would 
mildly  help  the  boarders  to  the  dish  in  front 
of  him  and  endeavor  feebly  to  turn  the  con- 
versation into  a  peaceful  and  safe  direction, 
though  this  never  had  the  slightest  effect 
upon  his  belligerent  wife. 

One  day — it  was  about  the  time  of  Stu- 
art's historical  grand  review — Mr.  Bradford 
invited  all  the  cavalry  generals  whose  forces 
were  stationed  around  us  to  dine  with  the 
commander  -  in  -  chief  of  the  cavalry.  He 
236 


My  Comrade  General  Jeb  Stuart 

would  never  have  dared  to  do  this  if  Aunt 
Sally  had  been  at  home,  but  Aunt  Sally  at 
this  auspicious  moment  was  in  Washington, 
where  we  all  hoped  the  fortunes  of  war  and 
shopping  would  keep  her  indefinitely.  Her 
niece,  Miss  Morse,  and  I  sat  down,  the  only 
ladies  present,  at  a  table  with  eighteen  Con- 
federate generals.  Miss  Molly  and  I  were  at 
first  a  trifle  embarrassed  at  being  the  only 
ladies,  but  they  were  all  refined  and  well-bred, 
and  soon  put  us  at  our  ease.  General  Wade 
Hampton  led  me  in  to  dinner,  and  I  sat  be- 
tween him  and  General  Ramseur.  General 
Ramseur  was  young  and  exceedingly  hand- 
some, and  a  paralyzed  arm  which  was  folded 
across  his  breast  made  him  all  the  more  at- 
tractive. 

"  If  you  sit  next  me,  Mrs.  Grey,"  he  said 
with  a  little  embarrassment,  "  you  will  have 
to  cut  up  my  dinner  for  me.  I  am  afraid  that 
will  be  putting  you  to  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 
Perhaps  I  had  better  change  my  seat." 

"  Oh,  no!  "  I  said,  "  I  will  be  very  glad— 
if  I  can  be  satisfactory." 

He  smiled.  "  Thank  you.  I  am  always 
both  glad  and  sorry  to  impose  upon  a  lady 
237 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

this  service.  I  am  sorry,  you  know,  to  tax 
a  lady  with  it,  but  then,  she  always  does  it 
better  than  a  man." 

I  had  been  studying  his  face,  and  now,  for 
want  of  something  more  sensible  I  said: 

"  If  I  am  to  feed  you,  General  Ramseur,  I 
must  measure  your  mouth." 

It  happened  that  there  was  dead  silence 
at  the  table  when  this  silly  speech  of  mine  was 
made.     Everybody  was  listening. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  handsome  general, 
blushing  and  smiling,  "  I  am  entirely  willing 
that  you  should." 

I  caught  a  mischievous  light  in  General 
Stuart's  merry  eyes,  and  blushed  furiously. 
Then  I  followed  his  laugh,  and  the  whole 
table  roared. 

"  I  will  tell  Dan  Grey!  "  cried  Stuart. 

"  I  will  tell  Dan  Grey ! "  ran  around  the 
table  like  a  chorus. 

But  I  fed  my  handsome  general  all  the 
same. 

It  was  while  I  was  at  Mr.  Bradford's  that 
one  of  the  most  stirring  events  in  Confeder- 
ate history  occurred.  This  was  the  trampling 
down  of  John  Minor  Bctts's  corn.  Very 
238 


My  Comrade  General  Jeb  Stuart 

good  corn  it  was,  dropped  and  hilled  by 
Southern  negroes  and  growing  on  a  large, 
fine  plantation  next  to  Mr.  Bradford's;  and  a 
very  nice  gentleman  Mr.  Botts  was,  too;  but 
a  field  of  corn,  however  good,  and  a  private 
citizen,  however  estimable,  are  scarcely  mat- 
ters of  national  or  international  importance. 
The  trouble  was  that  John  Minor  Botts  was 
on  the  Northern  side  and  the  corn  was  on  the 
Southern  side,  and  that  Stuart  held  a  grand 
review  on  the  Southern  side  and  the  corn 
got  trampled  down.  The  fame  of  that  corn 
went  abroad  into  all  the  land.  Northern  and 
Southern  papers  vied  with  each  other  in  edi- 
torials and  special  articles,  families  who  had 
been  friends  for  generations  stopped  speak- 
ing and  do  not  speak  to  this  day  because  of 
it,  more  than  one  hard  blow  was  exchanged 
for  and  against  it,  and  it  brought  down  vitu- 
peration upon  Stuart's  head.  And  yet  I  was 
present  at  that  naughty  grand  review — which 
left  sorrowful  memory  on  many  hearts  be- 
cause of  the  battle  following  fast  upon  it — 
and  I  can  testify  that  General  Stuart  went 
there  to  review  the  troops,  not  to  trample 
down  the  corn. 

239 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Afterward  John  Minor  Botts  came  over 
to  see  General  Stuart  and  to  quarrel  about 
that  corn.  All  that  I  can  remember  of  how 
the  general  took  Mr.  Botts's  visit  and  effort 
to  quarrel  was  that  Stuart  wouldn't  quarrel 
— whatever  it  was  he  said  to  Mr.  Botts  he 
got  to  laughing  when  he  said  it.  Our  col- 
ored Abigail  told  us  with  bated  breath  that 
"  Mr.  Botts  ripped  and  rarred  and  snorted, 
but  Genrul  Stuart  warn't  put  out  none  at 
all." 

There  had  been  many  reviews  that  week, 
all  of  them  merely  by  way  of  preparation  and 
practise  for  that  famous  grand  review  be- 
fore the  battle  of  Brandy  or  Fleetwood,  but 
it  is  only  of  this  particular  grand  review  I 
have  many  lively  memories.  Aunt  Sally  was 
away,  and  we  attended  it  in  state.  Mr.  Brad- 
ford had  out  the  ancient  and  honorable  family 
carriage  and  two  shadowy  horses,  relics  of 
days  when  corn  was  in  plenty  and  wheat  not 
merely  a  dream  of  the  past,  and  we  went  in  it 
to  the  review  along  with  many  other  car- 
riages and  horses,  whose  title  to  respect  lay, 
alas!  solely  in  the  past. 

That  was  a  day  to  lemember!  Lee's 
240 


My  Comrade  General  Jeb  Stuart 

whole  army  was  in  Culpeper.  Pennsylvania 
and  Gettysburg  were  before  it,  and  the  army 
was  making  ready  for  invasion.  On  a  knoll 
where  a  Confederate  flag  was  planted  and 
surrounded  by  his  staff  sat  General  Lee  on 
horseback;  before  him,  with  a  rebel  yell, 
dashed  Stuart  and  his  eight  thousand  cavalry. 
There  was  a  sham  battle.  Charging  and 
countercharging  went  on,  rebels  yelled  and 
artillery  thundered.  Every  time  the  cannons 
were  fired  we  would  pile  out  of  our  carriage, 
and  as  soon  as  the  cannonading  ceased  we 
would  pile  back  again.  General  Stuart  hap- 
pened to  ride  up  once  just  as  we  were  getting 
out. 

"  Why  don't  you  ladies  sit  still  and  enjoy 
the  fun?  "  he  asked  in  amazement. 

"  We  are  afraid  the  horses  might  take 
fright  and  run  away,"  we  answered. 

I  shall  never  forget  his  ringing  laugh. 
Our  lean  and  spiritless  steeds  had  too  little 
life  in  them  to  run  for  anything — they  hardly 
pricked  up  their  ears  when  the  guns  went  off. 

How  well  I  remember  Stuart  as  he  looked 
that  day!  He  wore  a  fine  new  uniform,  bril- 
liant with  gold  lace,  buff  gauntlets  reaching 
241 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

to  his  elbows,  and  a  canary-colored  silk  sash 
with  tasseled  ends.  His  hat,  a  soft,  broad- 
brimmed  felt,  was  caught  up  at  the  side  with 
a  gold  star  and  carried  a  sweeping  plume; 
his  high,  patent-leather  cavalry  boots  were 
trimmed  with  gold.  He  wore  spurs  of  solid 
gold,  the  gift  of  some  Maryland  ladies — he 
was  very  proud  of  those  spurs — and  his  horse 
was  coal  black  and  glossy  as  silk.  And  how 
happy  he  was — how  full  of  faith  in  the  Con- 
federacy and  himself! 

My  own  cavalry  officer  was  there,  resplen- 
dent in  his  new  uniform — I  had  had  it  made 
up  for  him  in  Richmond.  Dan  was  very 
proud  of  the  way  I  got  that  uniform.  He 
was  almost  ready  to  credit  himself  with  hav- 
ing put  me  up  to  running  the  blockade!  He 
told  General  Stuart  its  history,  and  that  is 
how  a  greatness  not  always  easy  to  sustain 
had  been  thrust  upon  me.  General  Stuart 
thought  me  very  brave — or  said  he  thought 
so.  The  maneuvers  of  Dan's  command  were 
on  such  a  distant  part  of  the  field  that  I 
could  not  see  him  well  with  the  naked  eye, 
and  General  Stuart  lent  me  his  field-glasses. 
The  next  morning,  just  as  gray  dawn  was 
242 


My  Comrade  General  Jeb  Stuart 

breaking,  some  one  called  under  my  window, 
and  gravel  rattled  against  the  pane.  I  got  up 
and  looked  out  sleepily.  My  first  thought  was 
that  it  might  be  Dan.  There  was  not  enough 
light  for  me  to  see  very  well  what  was  hap- 
pening on  the  lawn,  but  I  could  make  out 
that  the  cavalry  were  mounted  and  moving, 
and  under  my  window  I  saw  a  figure  on 
horseback. 

"  Is  that  Mrs.  Grey?  " 

"  Yes.     What  is  the  matter?  " 

"  General  Stuart  sent  me  for  his  field- 
glasses.  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  but  it 
couldn't  be  helped." 

I  tied  a  string  around  the  glasses  and 
lowered  them. 

"  What's  the  matter?  Where  is  the  cav- 
alry going?  " 

"  To  Brandy  Station.  Reckon  we'll  have 
some  hot  fighting  soon,"  and  the  orderly 
wheeled  and  rode  away. 

I  stayed  up  and  dressed,  and  thought  of 
Dan,  and  wished  I  could  know  if  he  was  to  be 
in  the  coming  engagement,  and  that  I  could 
see  him  first.     But  I  didn't  see  him  all  day. 


243 


CHAPTER    XX 

"  WHOSE    BUSINESS    'TIS   TO    DIE  " 

In  forty-eight  hours  we  knew  that  the 
surmise  of  the  orderly  was  correct — there  was 
enough  righting.  The  first  cannon-ball  which 
tore  through  the  air  at  Brandy  was  only  too 
grave  assurance  of  the  fact.  All  day  men 
were  hurrying  past  the  house,  deserters  from 
both  armies  getting  away  from  the  scene  of 
bloodshed  and  thunder  as  quickly  as  possible. 
Then  came  the  procession  of  the  dead  and 
wounded,  some  in  ambulances,  some  in  carts, 
some  on  the  shoulders  of  friends. 

In  the  afternoon  we  began  to  hear  rumors 
giving  names  of  the  killed  and  wounded.  I 
listened  with  my  heart  in  my  throat  for  Dan's 
name,  but  I  did  not  hear  it.  I  heard  no  news 
whatever  of  him  all  day — all  day  I  could  only 
hope  that  no  news  was  good  news,  and  all  day 
that  ghastly  procession  dragged  heavily  by. 
Among  names  of  the  killed  I  heard  that  of 
244 


"Whose  Business  'Tis  to  Die" 

Colonel  Sol  Williams.  A  day  or  two  before 
the  battle  of  Brandy  he  had  returned  from  a 
furlough  to  Petersburg,  where  he  had  gone 
to  marry  a  lovely  woman,  a  friend  of  mine. 
The  day  before  he  was  killed  he  had  sat  at 
table  with  me,  chatting  pleasantly  of  mutual 
friends  at  home  from  whom  he  had  brought 
messages,  brimful  of  happiness,  and  of  the 
charming  wife  he  had  won!  As  the  day 
waned  I  sat  in  my  room,  wretched  and  miser- 
able, thinking  of  my  friend  who  was  at  once  a 
bride  and  a  widow,  and  fearing  for  myself, 
whose  husband  even  at  that  moment  might 
be  falling  under  his  death  wound.  I  was 
aroused  by  hearing  the  voices  of  men,  sub- 
dued but  excited,  on  the  stairway  leading  to 
my  room.  I  ran  out  and  saw  several  men  of 
rank  and  Mr.  Bradford  on  the  stairway  talk- 
ing excitedly,  and  I  heard  my  name  spoken. 

"What's  the  matter,  gentlemen?"  I 
asked  with  forced  calmness. 

They  looked  up  at  me  in  a  stupid,  mas- 
culine sort  of  way,  as  if  they  had  something 
disagreeable  to  say  and  didn't  want  to  say  it. 
I  could  shake  those  men  now,  when  I  think 
of  how  stupid  they  were!  They  were  listen- 
245 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

ing  to  Mr.  Bradford,  and  I  don't  think  they 
really  caught  my  question,  nor  did  my  man- 
ner betray  to  them  how  fast  my  heart  was 
beating,  but  they  were  stupid,  nevertheless. 
I  could  hardly  get  the  next  words  out: 

"Is  Dan  hurt?" 

This  time  my  voice  was  so  low  that  they 
did  not  hear  it  at  all. 

"  For  God's  sake,  gentlemen,"  I  cried 
out,  "  tell  me  if  my  husband  is  wounded  or 
dead." 

"Neither,  madam!"  several  voices  an- 
swered instantly,  and  the  officer  nearest  me, 
thinking  I  was  going  to  fall,  sprang  quickly 
to  my  side.  I  gathered  myself  together,  and 
they  told  me  their  business,  and  I  saw  why 
my  presence  had  embarrassed  them — they 
wanted  my  room  for  the  wounded.  A  funny 
thing  had  happened,  incongruous  as  it  was, 
in  their  telling  me  that  my  fears  for  Dan  were 
groundless.  When  I  asked,  "  Is  Dan  hurt?" 
one  of  them  had  answered,  "  No,  ma'am; 
it's  General  Rooney  Lee;"  and  I  had  said, 
"  Thank  God!  "  I  can't  describe  the  look  of 
horror  with  which  they  heard  me. 

"  These  gentlemen,"  began  Mr.  Brad- 
246 


"Whose  Business  'Tis  to  Die" 

ford,  who  was  always  afraid  to  speak  his 
mind,  "  wanted  to  bring  General  Lee  here, 
and  I  didn't  have  a  place  to  put  him,  and  I 
was  telling  'em  that  I  thought  that — maybe 
— you  would  give  him  your  room.  I  could 
fix  up  a  lounge  for  you  somewhere." 

"  Of  course  I  will!  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  give  up  my  room,  or  do  anything  else  I 
can  for  General  Lee." 

I  busied  myself  getting  my  room  ready  for 
General  "  Rooney,"  but  he  was  not  brought 
to  Mr.  Bradford's,  after  all;  his  men  were 
afraid  that  he  might  be  captured  too  easily 
at  Mr.  Bradford's.  As  night  came  on  the 
yard  filled  up  with  soldiers.  In  the  lawn,  the 
road,  the  backyard,  the  porches,  the  out- 
houses, everywhere,  there  were  soldiers.  You 
could  not  set  your  foot  down  without  put- 
ting it  on  a  soldier;  if  you  thrust  your  hand 
out  of  a  window  you  touched  a  soldier's  back 
or  shoulder,  his  carbine  or  his  musket.  The 
place  was  crowded  not  only  with  cavalry,  but 
with  infantry  and  artillery,  and  still  they  kept 
on  coming.  I  had  not  heard  from  Dan.  It 
was  late  supper-time.  I  had  no  heart  for  sup- 
per, and  I  felt  almost  too  shaken  to  present 
17  247 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

myself  at  the  table,  but  as  I  passed  the  din- 
ing-room in  my  restless  rovings  I  saw  General 
Stuart's  back,  and  went  in  and  sat  by  him. 

"  General,"  I  said,  "  can  you  tell  me  any- 
thing of  Dan?  " 

"  He  is  neither  killed  nor  wounded.  I 
know  that  much.    Is  not  that  enough?  " 

"Yes,  thank  God! 

"  Oh,  general!  I  wish  this  war  was  over!  " 
I  said  again. 

"  I,  too,  my  child!  "  He  spoke  with  more 
than  Stuart's  sadness  and  gravity,  then,  re- 
membering himself,  he  added  quickly  in  his 
own  cheery  fashion,  "  But  we've  got  to  whip 
these  Yankees  first!" 

He  finished  his  cup  of  coffee  (the  kind  in 
common  use,  made  of  corn  which  had  been 
roasted,  parched,  and  ground),  and  then  went 
on  telling  me  about  Dan. 

"  He  has  borne  himself  gallantly,  as  he 
always  does,  and  as  you  know  without  my 
telling  you.  I  don't  know  where  he  is,  but 
he  will  be  along  presently." 

And  at  that  moment  Dan  walked  in,  with- 
out a  coat,  and  with  the  rest  of  that  new  uni- 
form a  perfect  fright.  He  was  covered  with 
248 


"Whose  Business  *Tis  to  Die" 

dust  and  ashes  and  gunpowder,  and  he 
looked  haggard  and  jaded.  He  sat  down  be- 
tween General  Stuart  and  me,  too  tired  to 
talk;  but  after  eating  some  supper,  he  felt 
better,  and  began  discussing  the  battle  and 
relating  some  incidents.  He  took  a  card 
out  of  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  General 
Stuart. 

"A  Federal  officer  who  is  about  done 
for,  poor  fellow,  handed  me  that  just  now. 
I  don't  know  the  name.    He  couldn't  talk." 

"I  do!"  General  Stuart  exclaimed,  with 
quick,  strong  interest.  "  Where  did  you  see 
him?  This  is  the  name  of  one  of  my  class- 
mates at  West  Point." 

"  I  saw  him  on  the  roadside  as  I  came  on 
to  supper.  While  riding  along  I  heard  a 
strange  sound,  something  like  a  groan,  yet 
different  from  any  groan  I  ever  heard — the 
strangest,  most  uncanny  sound  imaginable. 
I  dismounted  and  began  to  look  around  for 
it,  and  I  found  a  Yankee  soldier  lying  in  a 
ditch  by  the  roadside.  I  couldn't  see  that 
any  legs  or  arms  were  broken,  nor  that  he 
was  wounded  at  all.  I  felt  him  all  over,  and 
asked  what  was  the  matter.  He  didn't  speak, 
249 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

and  I  saw  that  he  had  been  trying  to  direct 
my  attention  to  his  face.  He  tried  very  hard 
to  speak,  but  only  succeeded  in  emitting  the 
strange  sound  I  had  heard  before;  and  on 
examining  his  face  closely,  and  moving  the 
whiskers  aside,  I  found  that  he  was  shot 
through  both  jaws.  He  made  the  same  noise 
again,  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  gave 
me  this  card,  with  another  pitiful  effort  to 
speak.  I  put  my  coat  under  his  head,  laid 
some  brush  across  the  ditch  to  hide  him,  and 
promised  to  go  back  for  him  in  an  ambu- 
lance." 

"  Thank  you,  in  my  own  behalf!  "  General 
Stuart  said  warmly. 

"  Perhaps,  poor  fellow,"  said  Dan,  "  he 
took  chances  on  that  card's  reaching  you. 
Seeing  my  uniform  of  major  of  cavalry,  he 
may  not  have  considered  it  impossible  that 
you  should  hear  of  his  condition  through 
me. 

"  When  you  have  finished  your  supper, 
major,  we  will  go  after  him." 

Tired  as  they  both  were,  they  went  out 
and  attended  personally  to  the  relief  of  the 
poor  fellow  by  the  roadside.  General  Stuart 
250 


"Whose  Business  'Tis  to  Die" 

had  everything  done  for  him  that  was  possible, 
smoothed  his  last  moments,  and  grieved  over 
him  as  deeply  as  if  his  classmate  had  not  been 
his  enemy. 

Another  sad  thing  among  the  sorrows  of 
that  supper  was  when  Colonel  Sol  Williams's 
brother-in-law,  John  Pegram,  came  in,  and 
sat  down  in  our  midst.  General  Stuart  went 
up  to  him,  and  wrung  his  hand  in  a  silence 
that  even  the  dauntless  Stuart's  lips  were  too 
tremulous  at  once  to  break.  When  he  could 
speak  he  said: 

"  I  grieve  for  myself  as  for  you,  lieuten- 
ant, but  it  was  a  death  that  any  one  of  us 
might  be  proud  to  die." 

Even  then  the  shadow  and  glory  of  his 
own  death  was  not  far  from  him. 

Colonel  Williams  had  been  Lieutenant 
Pegram's  superior  officer  as  well  as  brother- 
in-law.  It  had  been  his  sorrowful  lot  to  take 
the  body  of  his  colonel  on  his  horse  in  front 
of  him,  and  carry  it  to  a  house  where  it  could 
be  reverently  cared  for  until  he  could  send  it 
home  to  bride  and  kindred.  He  had  cut  a 
lock  of  hair  from  the  dead,  and  when  the 
troops  went  off  to  Pennsylvania,  he  gave  it 
251 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

to  me  for  his  sister.  I  shall  never  forget  that 
supper  hour,  or  how  the  unhappy  young  fel- 
low looked  when  he  came  in  among  us  after 
his  ride  with  the  dead,  and  I  shall  never  for- 
get how  I  felt  about  that  poor  young  Federal 
soldier  who  was  wounded  in  the  jaws  and 
couldn't  speak,  and  how  I  felt  about  the 
women  who  loved  him  far  away;  I  began  to 
feel  that  war  was  an  utterly  unjustifiable 
thing,  and  that  the  virtues  of  valor,  loyalty, 
devotion  which  it  brings  out  had  better  be 
brought  out  some  other  way.  If  General 
Rooney  Lee  didn't  take  my  room,  I  gave  it 
up  all  the  same.  Two  wounded  men  were 
put  into  it.  There  were  a  number  of 
wounded  men  in  the  house,  and,  of  course, 
everybody  gave  way  to  their  comfort.  All 
but  my  two  were  removed  in  a  day  or  two, 
but  here  these  two  were,  and  here  they  were 
when  Aunt  Sally  came  home.  Her  home- 
coming was  after  a  fashion  that  turned  our 
mourning  into  righteous  and  wholesome 
wrath.  We  were  sitting  on  the  porch  one 
afternoon,  free  and  easy  in  our  minds  and  be- 
lieving Aunt  Sally  away  in  distant  Washing- 
ton, when  we  noted  a  small  object  far  off 
252 


"Whose  Business  'Tis  to  Die** 

down  the  road.  As  it  crawled  nearer  and 
nearer  we  perceived  that  it  was  an  ox-cart; 
we  saw  the  driver,  and  behind  him  somebody 
else  sitting  on  a  trunk. 

"Good  gracious!  that's  Aunt  Sally!" 
cried  Mr.  Bradford  in  consternation. 

We  were  all  dreadfully  sorry,  but  it 
couldn't  be  helped. 

She  climbed  off  the  cart  at  the  gate,  and 
called  for  some  negro  to  come  get  her  trunk. 
Mr.  Bradford  had  already  found  one,  and  was 
running  to  the  rescue.  In  fact  he  had  been 
running  in  a  half  dozen  different  directions 
ever  since  he  had  spied  Aunt  Sally.  He 
looked  as  if  his  wits  had  left  him  and  as  if 
he  were  racing  around  in  a  circle. 

"  You  orter  been  on  hand  to  he'p  me  off 
o'  that  kyart,"  she  told  him.  "  It  do  look 
like  when  a  man's  wife's  been  away  this  long 
time  he  might  be  on  hand  to  he'p  her  off  the 
kyart." 

As  she  came  up  the  walk  she  said  the 
yard  looked  awful  torn  and  "  trompled 
down  ";  that  she  was  afraid  she  would  find  it 
so  soon  as  she  heard  that  the  place  had  been 
camping  ground  for  the  whole  army  and  her 
253 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

away  and  nobody  there  to  manage  the  army 
as  she  could  have  done.  She  greeted  me  and 
her  niece,  and  in  the  same  breath  told  her 
niece  that  there  was  some  mud  on  the  steps 
which  ought  to  be  washed  off.  Then  she 
went  into  the  house,  taking  off  her  things 
and  remarking  on  "  things  that  ought  to  be 
done."  Presently  there  was  a  great  stir  in 
the  house;  she  had  found  out  the  wounded 
men.  She  commented  on  their  presence  in 
such  a  loud  voice  that  we  heard  it  on  the 
porch,  and  the  men  themselves  must  have 
heard  it. 

"Just  like  Mr.  Bradford!  If  I  had  been 
here  it  wouldn't  have  happened.  The  idea! 
Turning  the  house  into  a  hospital!  I  won't 
have  it!  Nobody  knows  who  they  are.  I 
can't  have  'em  on  my  best  beds,  and  be- 
tween my  best  sheets  and  blankets.  Dirty, 
common  soldiers!  I  never  heard  of  such  a 
thing!  " 

And  she  got  them  out  before  supper. 

There  was  an  office  in  the  yard  and  she 
had  them  taken  to  this.  They  had  to  be  car- 
ried past  us,  and  I  can  see  them  now,  poor, 
mortified,  shame-faced  fellows!  I  was  as  afraid 
254 


"Whose  Business  'Tis  to  Die" 

of  Aunt  Sally  as  of  a  rattlesnake,  but  I  think 
I  could  have  shaken  her  then! 

Little  it  was  that  I  saw  of  Dan  or  any  of 
my  army  friends  after  the  battle  of  Brandy. 
The  cavalry  was  too  busy  watching 
Hooker's,  while  our  infantry  was  pushing  on 
toward  Pennsylvania,  to  spare  any  time  to 
lighter  matters.  Every  day  the  boys  in  gray 
marched  by  on  their  Way  North. 

I  watched  from  the  porch  and  windows  if 
by  any  means  I  might  catch  sight  of  Dan. 
But  his  way  did  not  lie  by  Bradford's.  One 
morning,  however,  I  saw  General  Stuart  rid- 
ing by  at  the  head  of  a  large  command.  I 
thought  they  were  going  to  stop  and  camp 
at  Mr.  Bradford's,  perhaps,  but  I  was  mis- 
taken. As  soon  as  I  saw  that  they  were 
going  by  without  stopping,  I  ran  to  the  fence 
and  beckoned  to  General  Stuart.  He  had 
seen  me  on  the  porch,  and  rode  up  to  the 
fence  at  once. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  stop  at  all? "  I 
asked. 

"  Not  to-day.  In  fact  we're  off  for  some 
time  now." 

"  Is  Dan  going?  " 

255 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Yes.  He's  ahead  now  with  General 
Chambliss." 

"  Am  I  not  to  see  him  at  all,  General  Stu- 
art? "  I  said,  trying  hard  to  keep  my  lip  from 
quivering — I  had  a  reputation  to  keep  up 
with  him. 

But  he  saw  the  quiver. 

"  You  can  go  on  with  the  army  if  you 
want  to,"  he  said  in  quick  sympathy.  "  I 
will  give  you  an  ambulance.  You  can  carry 
your  own  maid  along,  have  your  own 
tent,  and  have  your  husband  with  you. 
I  will  do  anything  I  can  for  your  com- 
fort. You  would  nurse  our  poor  fellows 
when  they  get  hurt,  and  be  no  end  of  good 
to  us.  But  it  would  be  awfully  hard  on 
you." 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  the  hardships,"  I  an- 
swered, "  but  you  know  Dan  won't  let  me  go. 
I  have  begged  him  several  times  to  let  me 
live  in  camp  with  him.  I  could  nurse  the 
sick  and  wounded,  and  take  care  of  him 
if  he  was  shot,  and  I  wouldn't  be  a  bit  of 
trouble;  and  I  could  patch  for  the  soldiers. 
Oh,  I'd  love  to  do  it!  If  you  come  up 
with  him,  General  Stuart,  ask  him  to  let 
256 


"Whose  Business  'Tis  to  Die" 

me  go,  and  if  he  says  yes,  send  the  ambu- 
lance." 

"  I'll  promise  him  what  I  promised  you," 
he  said,  smiling  kindly.  "  Good-by  now. 
I'll  ride  on  and  send  him  back  to  say 
good-by  to  you,  if  I  can  manage  it.  Then 
you  can  talk  him  into  letting  you  come 
with  us." 

I  climbed  up  on  the  fence  to  shake  hands 
with  him  and  to  say  good-by,  and  I  had  an- 
other word  for  him.  Beneath  my  dress  and 
next  my  skin  was  a  little  Catholic  medal 
which  had  been  blessed  by  my  confessor.  It 
hung  around  my  neck  by  a  slender  chain.  I 
unclasped  the  chain,  drew  forth  the  medal 
and  gave  it  to  him,  my  eyes  brimming  with 
tears. 

"  It  has  been  blessed  by  Father  Mulvey," 
I  said.  "  Wear  it  about  your  neck.  Maybe 
it  will  bring  you  back  safe." 

I  was  leaning  upon  the  horse's  neck,  cry- 
ing as  if  my  heart  would  break.  General 
Stuart's  own  eyes  were  dim. 

"  Good-by,"  I  said,  "  and  if  you  can  send 
Dan  back  I  thank  you  for  us  both — I  thank 
you  anyway  for  thinking  of  it;  but — the 
257 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

South  and  his  duty  first.     Good-by,  and  God 
bless  you,  General  Stuart!" 

That  was  the  last  time  I  ever  saw  him,  the 
last  time  that  knightly  hand  clasped  mine. 
Before  he  rode  away  he  said  some  cheerful, 
hopeful  words,  and  looked  back  at  me  with  the 
glint  of  merry  mischief  in  his  eyes,  threaten- 
ing to  tell  Dan  Grey  that  I  was  losing  my 
good  repute  for  bravery.  Dan  did  not  come 
back  to  say  good-by.  I  had  a  little  note 
which  he  contrived  to  send  me  in  some  way. 
It  was  only  a  hasty  scrawl,  full  of  good-bys 
and  God  bless  yous. 

After  saying  good-by  to  General  Stuart  I 
returned  to  the  house.  Esten  Cooke  sat  at 
a  table  writing.  He  was  preparing  some  offi- 
cial papers  for  General  Stuart,  I  think,  and 
had  been  left  behind  for  that  purpose.  I  un- 
derstood him  to  answer  one  of  my  questions 
to  the  effect  that  he  was  going  to  follow  the 
cavalry  presently. 

"  Colonel  Cooke,"  I  asked  humbly  enough, 
for  I  was  ready  then  to  take  information  and 
advice  from  anybody,  "  how  long  do  you  think 
it  will  be  before  the  army  comes  back?  " 

"  Can't  say,  madam." 
258 


"  Whose  Business    'Tis  to  Die  " 

"  Would  you  advise  me  to  wait  here  until 
its  return?  " 

"  Can't  say,  madam." 

"  Would  you  advise  me  to  go  to  Rich- 
mond? " 

"  Madam,  I  would  advise  you  to  go  to 
Richmond." 

"  You  think  then  it  will  be  some  time 
before  the  army  returns?  " 

"  I  can't  say,  madam?  " 

I  felt  like  shaking  him  and  asking: 
"  What  can  you  say?  "  He  may  have  been 
a  brave  soldier  and  written  nice  books  and  all 
that,  but  I  think  John  Esten  Cooke  was  a 
very  dull,  disagreeable  man. 

I  waited  several  days,  but  as  I  got  nothing 
further  from  Dan  than  the  little  note — which 
was  bare  of  advice  because,  perhaps,  he  didn't 
have  time  to  write  more,  and  because  he  may 
not  have  known  how  to  advise  me — I  took 
John  Esten  Cooke's  advice  and  went  to  Rich- 
mond. I  stopped  there  only  a  very  short  time, 
and  then  went  on  to  Petersburg,  where  mother 
was.  Reunion  with  her  was  compensation 
for  many  troubles,  and  then,  too,  she  needed 
me.  She  had  not  heard  from  Milicent  since 
259 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

my  departure  for  Culpeper.  Then  a  letter 
had  reached  us  through  the  agency  of  Mr. 
Cridland,  in  which  Milicent  had  stated  her 
purpose  of  coming  to  us  as  soon  as  she  could 
get  a  pass — a  thing  it  was  every  day  becom- 
ing more  difficult  to  secure — for  she  was 
determined  upon  reaching  us  before  the  cold 
weather  came  again.  Since  that  letter  there 
had  been  absolute  silence. 

Then  came  upon  us  that  awful  July  of 
1863,  and  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  the  be- 
ginning of  the  end.  Virginians  fell  by  hun- 
dreds in  that  fight,  and  Pickett's  charge  goes 
down  to  history  along  with  Balaklava  and 
Thermopylae.  There  were  more  vacant 
chairs  in  Virginia,  already  desolate — there 
were  more  broken  hearts  for  which  Heaven 
alone  held  balm.  "  When  Italy's  made,  for 
what  good  is  it  done  if  we  have  not  a  son?  " 
Again  the  angel  of  death  had  passed  me 
by.  But  my  heart  bled  for  my  friends  who 
were  dead  on  that  red  field  far  away — for 
my  friends  who  mourned  and  could  not  be 
comforted. 

One  of  our  wounded,  whose  father 
brought  him  home  to  be  nursed,  bore  to  me 
260 


"Whose  Business  'Tis  to  Die" 

a  letter  from  my  husband  and  a  package  from 
General  Stuart.  The  package  contained  a 
photograph  of  himself  that  he  had  promised 
me,  and  a  note,  bright,  genial,  merry,  like 
himself.  That  picture  is  hanging  on  my  wall 
now.  On  the  back  is  written  by  a  hand  long 
crumbled  into  dust,  "  To  her  who  in  being  a 
devoted  wife  did  not  forget  to  be  a  true  pa- 
triot." The  eyes  smile  down  upon  us  as  I 
lift  my  little  granddaughter  up  to  kiss  my 
gallant  cavalier's  lips,  and  as  she  lisps  his 
name  my  heart  leaps  to  the  memory  of  his 
dauntless  life  and  death. 

He  was  shot  one  beautiful  May  morning 
in  1864  while  trying  to  prevent  Sheridan's  ap- 
proach to  Richmond.  It  was  at  Yellow  Tav- 
ern— a  dismantled  old  tavern  not  many  miles 
from  the  Confederate  capital — that  he  fell, 
and  Colonel  Venable,  who  was  serving  with 
him  at  the  time  and  near  him  when  he  fell, 
helped,  if  I  remember  aright,  to  shroud  him. 
When  he  told  me  what  he  could  of  General 
Stuart's  last  hours,  he  said: 

"There    was    a    little    Catholic    medal 
around  his  neck,  Nell.     Did  you  give  him 
that?    We  left  it  on  him." 
261 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

And  so  passes  from  this  poor  history  my 
beloved  and  loyal  friend,  my  cavalry  hero 
and  good  comrade.  Virginia  holds  his  dust 
sacred,  and  in  history  he  sits  at  the  Round 
Table  of  all  true-souled  and  gentle  knights. 


262 


^rtA.eiKK    XXI 

RESCUED    BY    THE    FOE 
Milicent  's  arrest  in  Washington  as  related  by  herself. 

I  passed  May  and  a  part  of  the  summer 
of  1863  in  fruitless  efforts  to  get  a  pass  to 
Virginia.  This  was  when  the  Civil  War  was 
at  its  whitest  heat,  and  I  was  in  the  city  of 
Baltimore,  where  a  word  was  construed  into 
treason,  and  messages  and  letters  were  con- 
trived to  and  from  the  South  only  by  means 
of  strategy.  One  by  one  my  plans  failed. 
Then  came  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  and  as  I 
heard  of  our  reverses  I  felt  an  almost  helpless 
lethargy  stealing  over  me — as  if  I  should 
never  see  Nell  or  mother  again.  How  long 
the  war  would  last,  and  what  would  be  the 
end  of  it  none  could  tell.  Nell  and  mother 
were  in  a  besieged  country,  and  the  blockade 
between  us  seemed  an  impassable  wall.  The 
long  silence  was  becoming  unbearable  as  I 
slowly  realized  that  it  might  become  the 
silence  of  death  and  I  not  know. 
18  263 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

At  last  came  news  which  I  thought 
affected  them,  and  which  startled  me  into  in- 
stant energy. 

One  morning  my  friend,  Miss  Barnett,  a 
beautiful  girl,  rushed  into  my  room,  and, 
throwing  herself  on  the  floor  beside  me,  be- 
gan telling  me  with  sobs  and  tears  that  my 
brother-in-law,  Major  Grey,  or  his  brother 
Dick,  was  a  prisoner  in  the  Old  Capitol  at 
Washington.  She  begged  me  to  go  at  once 
and  see  what  I  could  do.  If  I  could  not  find 
some  way  of  helping  the  prisoner  to  free- 
dom, I  could  at  least  add  to  his  comfort  in 
prison. 

"  You  could  at  least  show  him  that  he 
was  remembered,"  she  said.  "  You  could 
take  some  little  delicacies  which  would  be 
grateful  to  a  prisoner.  I  will  help  you  to  get 
them  up." 

Poor  Isabelle!  It  was  one  of  the  trag- 
edies of  the  war.  She  was  too  wretched  to 
attempt  any  concealment. 

"  You  see,  if  I  had  any  right  to  go  my- 
self I  would  not  ask  you  to  go  for  me.  If  I 
were  even  engaged  to  him — but  I  am  not. 
You  see,  it  couldn't  be.  But,  O  Millie!  I 
264 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

wish  there  wasn't  any  war  that  I  might  be 
my  love's  betrothed  and  go  to  him!" 

For  a  minute  her  proposition  daunted 
me.  To  rush  into  Washington,  a  Southern 
woman,  alone  and  unprotected;  to  be  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  the  Government  offi- 
cials and  spies  whose  business  it  was  to  watch 
and  report  every  careless  word  and  act  of  any 
one  who  was  known  to  be  interested  in  the 
South  or  in  Southerners — the  undertaking 
seemed  desperate.  But  there  were  Isabelle's 
tearful  eyes,  and  there  was  the  fear  that  Nell's 
husband  might  be  the  prisoner.  I  determined 
to  make  the  trip  at  all  hazards. 

Together  we  made  purchases  of  what  we 
considered  the  most  tempting  delicacies  to 
take  to  an  invalid  or  prisoner.  There  were 
cheeses,  crackers,  oranges,  lemons,  jellies; 
and  we  did  not  forget  to  add  to  our  stock 
wine,  whisky,  pipes,  and  tobacco.  Isabelle 
herself  sent  a  box  of  fine  cigars,  a  costly  gift, 
for  the  war  with  the  Southern  States  affected 
the  price  of  tobacco. 

The  next  morning  I  started  off  by  myself 
to  Washington  in  fear  and  trembling.  Tak- 
ing a  hack  there,  and  trusting  to  a  kind 
265 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Providence  for  guidance  and  protection,  I 
drove  first  to  the  office  of  the  provost  mar- 
shal for  a  permit.  On  entering  his  office,  to 
my  consternation  I  recognized  in  him  the 
judge-advocate  under  whose  protection  our 
truce  boat  had  gone  to  Richmond  not  many 
months  before  with  the  distinct  understand- 
ing that  her  passengers  were  not  to  return 
from  Dixie  while  the  war  lasted.  But  it  was 
too  late  to  retreat.  Rallying  all  my  courage 
and  self-control  I  greeted  him  as  a  stranger, 
asking  whether  or  not  I  was  addressing  Judge 
Turner.  Answered  in  the  affirmative,  I  re- 
quested permission  to  visit  the  prisoners  in 
the  Old  Capitol. 

While  I  was  talking  he  looked  up  and  a 
glance  almost  of  recognition  lighted  his  face. 
It  was  succeeded  by  a  more  scrutinizing  re- 
gard as  I  stood  in  perfectly  assumed  uncon- 
sciousness before  him.  Bowing,  he  asked  me 
to  be  seated,  and  to  repeat  my  petition. 
Others  were  waiting  their  turn,  and  his  an- 
swer was  prompt: 

"  Certainly,   madam.      You   can   see   the 
two   prisoners   mentioned,    or   any   one   you 
wish,  and  take  with  you  what  you  please." 
266 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

An  easy  job  certainly! 

My  heart  grew  light;  I  arose  to  go, 
thanking  the  judge  cordially. 

He  said:  "  One  moment,  madam." 

I  went  back,  and  he  handed  me  a  pen, 
ink,  and  slip  of  paper,  saying: 

"  Just  sign  this,  please.  It  is  of  no  con- 
sequence at  all — a  mere  matter  of  form — 
only  you  can  not  see  your  friends  without 
it." 

There  spread  out  before  me  was  the  iron- 
clad oath! 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  I  replied: 

"  The  oath,  Judge  Turner!  Am  I  to  sign 
that?    I  can  not!  and  never  will! " 

He  smiled  apologetically  and  said  : 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence — only  a  little 
form  that  we  have  to  insist  on.  Sign  it,  and 
you  can  go  to  your  friends." 

"  If  it  is  of  no  consequence  to  your  side, 
provost,  why  should  it  be  of  so  much  to 
mine  that  I  can  not  see  my  friends  with- 
out it?  " 

He  smiled,  and  still  held  the  pen  out  to 
me. 

"No!  never!"  I  said. 
267 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Then  I  can  not  help  you.  I  am  sorry. 
You  must  apply  at  military  headquarters." 

He  kindly  directed  me  to  the  same.  I 
hurried  down  the  steps,  jumped  into  my  hack, 
and  drove  quickly  to  the  War  Department. 
Here  I  made  my  request  again  and  again  met 
with  the  same  polite  consent  backed  with  the 
oath.  Again  I  refused  and  turned  to  go,  when 
one  of  the  officers  kindly  suggested: 

"  Make  application  to  the  officer  at  the 
Old  Capitol.  He  may  permit  you  to  see  the 
prisoners  without  oath,  though  I  fear  not." 

As  there  was  not  much  time  left  before 
my  train  would  start  for  Baltimore,  I  urged 
my  driver  to  do  his  best,  and  we  sped  on  in 
haste  until  we  stopped  before  the  gloomy, 
formidable-looking  prison  of  the  Old  Capitol. 
With  the  permission  of  the  guard  I  entered. 
The  officer  in  command  received  me  with 
kindness  and  courtesy,  and  with  his  consent 
I  was  about  to  ascend  the  stairs  when  he  ex- 
tended his  hand,  saying  : 

"  The  oath,  if  you  please.  I  presume  you 
took  it  at  the  War  Department,  and  have 
your  pass." 

Again  I  was  foiled.  This  was  my  last 
268 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

chance.  There  was  no  use  pleading,  and  I 
was  in  despair.  I  leaned  on  a  chair  to  rest  a 
moment  before  leaving  the  room,  defeated. 
I  had  not  a  word  to  say,  and  I  did  not  say  a 
word.  I  suppose  my  deep  dejection  touched 
him.  I  was  about  to  go  when  he  said  with 
great  kindness: 

"  Wait  here  near  these  steps.  I  will  send 
up  an  order,  and  if  he  is  there,  he  can  come 
to  the  railing  and  you  can  speak  to  him,  and 
send  him  anything  you  wish.  But  you  can 
not  go  up." 

An  orderly  ascended  with  the  message, 
and  I  waited  at  the  steps,  watching  anxiously 
for  Dan  or  Dick  to  appear  at  the  railing.  I 
did  not  have  many  minutes  to  wait.  The  or- 
derly returned  with  the  reply  that  Lieutenant 
— not  Major — Grey  had  been  exchanged 
that  very  morning,  and  was  now  on  his  way 
home.  Happy  for  Nell  and  Isabelle  and 
myself,  I  poured  out  my  thanks  to  the  officer 
in  command  for  helping  me  to  such  good 
news,  and  asked  his  permission  to  send  the 
large  basket  of  good  things  I  had  brought  to 
the  other  prisoners.  He  gave  it,  and  I  saw 
the  orderly  again  mount  the  stairs,  burdened 
269 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

this  time  with  good  wishes  and  my  still  more 
substantial  and  acceptable  offering.  As  I 
went  out,  passing  again  through  the  prison 
gates,  my  driver  whispered  in  the  most  ex- 
cited manner: 

"  Lady!  lady!  do  take  care!  The  prison- 
ers are  all  at  the  windows,  and  if  you  look 
up  or  speak  to  them  we  will  both  be  arrested 
instantly." 

I  seated  myself  quickly,  and  then,  in  spite 
of  all  fears  and  warnings,  glanced  up,  to  see 
the  windows  filled  with  faces,  and  hands  and 
handkerchiefs  waving  to  me  inside  the  bars. 
As  we  dashed  forward,  I  leaned  out  of  the 
window  waving  my  handkerchief  in  vigorous 
response.  In  the  excitement,  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  moment,  I  lost  all  sense  of  fear  or 
danger — my  whole  heart  was  with  those 
desolate,  homesick  Confederates  behind  the 
bars.  Fortunately  the  driver  was  frightened 
out  of  his  wits  and  drove  like  mad,  or  we 
should  never  have  gotten  to  the  train  in  time. 

I  had  been  fortunate  enough  to  find  in  my 

driver  a  strong,  if  secret,   sympathizer  with 

the   South.      As  I   bade   him  good-by,   and 

thanked  him  for  the  care   and  promptness 

270 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

with  which  he  had  carried  me  about,  and  for 
his  unheeded  warning  as  well,  he  said: 

"  Oh,  lady,  lady,  you  ran  a  great  risk 
when  you  waved  that  handkerchief!  I  saw 
it  and  drove  as  fast  as  I  could  to  get  you 
away  from  there.  It  is  a  wonder  we  were 
not  arrested." 

I  stepped  on  the  car,  and  was  taking  my 
seat,  when  a  hand  lightly  touched  my  shoul- 
der from  behind,  and  I  heard  myself  arrested 
by  a  name  that  was  not  mine.  Behind  me 
stood  a  sergeant  in  the  United  States  uni- 
form, who  informed  me  that  I  was  his  pris- 
oner. 

I  tried  to  shrink  away  from  him. 

"  That  is  not  my  name,"  I  said. 

Still  he  kept  that  light  grip  on  my  shoul- 
der. I  felt  sick.  The  day  had  been  a  long 
one  of  exercise  and  excitement.  I  had  eaten 
nothing  since  my  early  breakfast  of  a  cracker 
and  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  I  was  physically  weak. 
The  terror  of  the  situation,  the  full  foolhardi- 
ness  of  my  undertaking  flashed  upon  me. 
Alone  in  Washington,  not  a  friend  near,  and 
under  arrest!  For  an  instant  everything 
whirled  around  me,  and  I  fell  back  against 
271 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

the  breast  of  the  sergeant;  but  as  instantly 
I  pulled  myself  together  and  stood  erect. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  I  said  quietly,  "  I 
am  not  the  person  you  have  mentioned." 

And  I  threw  back  my  heavy  mourning 
veil  and  looked  my  captor  full  in  the  face. 

"  Ain't  you?  It's  widow's  weeds  this 
time!" 

These  words  were  spoken  sarcastically  by 
a  man  in  civilian  dress  who  was  with  the  ser- 
geant— a  detective,  I  suppose. 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Milicent  Duncan  Norman, 
of  Baltimore,"  I  said  firmly.  "  You  can  tele- 
graph to  No.  —  Charles  Street  and  see.  You 
will  please  remove  your  hand,"  I  continued. 
"  If  necessary  I  will  go  with  you,  but  I  am 
not  the  person  you  wish  to  arrest.  You  are 
making  a  mistake." 

I  turned  my  face  full  to  the  light,  and 
stood,  calm  and  composed,  though  my  knees 
were  trembling  under  me,  and  I  felt  as  if  I 
should  faint.  I  saw  Bobby  at  home  waiting 
for  me! 

"  I  must  stay  over  if  you  insist,"  I  re- 
peated, "  but  I  hope  you  will  permit  me  to 

convince  you  of  your  mistake.     It  would  be 

272 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

extremely  inconvenient  to  me  to  be  detained 
here.  I  left  Baltimore  this  morning,  and  my 
little  boy  has  been  without  me  all  day.  He 
will  cry  himself  sick  if  I  don't  get  home  to- 
night." 

In  spite  of  all  I  could  do  my  lips  quivered. 

"  I  am  sorry,  madam,"  said  my  sergeant, 
more  respectfully  than  he  had  hitherto 
spoken,  "  but  you  will  have  to  come  with 
me.  If  it  is  as  you  say,  you  can  telegraph  and 
satisfy  the  authorities  very  quickly." 

My  arrest  had  attracted  some  attention. 
I  saw  that  people  in  the  car  were  gathering 
around  me,  and  I  saw  curiosity  in  some  faces, 
sympathy  in  some,  but  among  all  those  faces 
none  that  I  knew.  This  was  my  first  visit  to 
Washington,  and  there  was  not  a  soul  to 
identify  me.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
to  go  and  telegraph — if  they  would  let  me.  I 
would  have  to  miss  my  train.  Bobby  was 
watching  from  the  window  for  me  this  very 
minute — Bobby  would  cry  all  night.  I  told 
the  sergeant  that  I  would  go,  and  tried  to 
follow  him,  and  then  everything  grew  dark 
around  me,  my  head  whirled,  and  I  dropped 
across  the  seat  nearest  me. 
273 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

I  could  not  have  been  unconscious  more 
than  a  second.  The  kind  gentleman  over 
whose  seat  I  had  fallen  had  caught  me,  and 
was  slapping  my  face  with  a  wet  handkerchief, 
and  assuring  the  sergeant  that  he  knew  by  my 
face  that  I  was  perfectly  harmless  and  ought 
not  to  be  arrested,  that  he  would  bet  any- 
thing on  it,  when  a  new  passenger  hurriedly 
entered  the  car  and  brushed  squarely  up 
against  us. 

The  sergeant  was  saying:  "We  must 
hurry,"  and  offering  me  his  arm  very  courte- 
ously. "  You  will  feel  better  when  you  get 
out  in  the  air.  And  you  will  perhaps  come 
out  all  right,  and  be  able  to  go  on  to-mor- 
row." 

The  newcomer  looked  over  the  sergeant's 
shoulder  and  saw  me. 

"Milicent!"  he  said,  and  clasped  my 
hands. 

It  was  a  dear  friend  whom  I  had  known 
in  my  girlhood  days  as  Captain  Warren. 

"  What  is  all  this?  "  he  asked  quickly  of 
the  sergeant. 

The  sergeant  was  staggered,  the  little 
man  in  civilian's  clothes  cringed,  the  old  man 
274 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

who  had  offered  to  bet  on  me  was  in  the 
majority. 

"  We  must  get  out  of  this,  commodore," 
said  the  sergeant  quickly,  "  the  car  is  mov- 
ing." 

The  commodore  got  out  with  us,  lifted 
me  bodily  off  the  train,  and  then,  as  we  stood 
together,  while  the  sergeant  explained,  sup- 
ported me  with  his  arm.  I  was  too  weak  and 
ill  to  hear  their  talk.  I  think  I  was  very 
nearly  in  a  faint  while  I  stood,  or  tried  to 
stand  upright  beside  him. 

He  told  me  afterward  that  I  had  been 
arrested  by  mistake  for  some  famous  politi- 
cal spy  in  petticoats.  He  answered  for  me, 
made  himself  responsible  in  every  way,  lifted 
me  into  a  carriage,  and  told  the  driver  where 
to  take  us.  I  was  too  nearly  dead  to  listen 
to  what  he  said.  As  the  carriage  whirled 
along  I  tried  to  sit  up,  to  lift  my  head,  but 
every  time  I  attempted  it  I  grew  blind  and 
sick. 

"  I  would  not  try  to  sit  up  just  yet,  Mrs. 

Norman,"  he  said  very  kindly.     "  In  a  few 

minutes,  perhaps,  you  can  do  so  without  risk, 

but  I'd  be  very  quiet  now.     In  a  little  while 

275 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

I  will  hand  you  over  to  my  wife — she  is  a 
wonderful  nurse." 

"  My  little  boy  is  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow for  me,  waiting  for  me;  he  has  been  by 
himself  all  day,"  I  sobbed. 

"Ah!  I  am  so  sorry  you  have  had  this 
annoyance  and  detention.  I  wish  I  had 
boarded  the  car  earlier;  you  should  have  gone 
on  if  I  had.  I  was  outside  talking  with  some 
friends,  and  I  did  not  jump  on  the  train  until 
she  was  about  to  move  off,  but  I  can  tele- 
graph to  your  friends,  and  you  can  go  on  to- 
morrow." 

The  ride  in  the  open  air  had  revived  me, 
and  I  found  now  that  I  could  sit  up  without 
fainting. 

"  You  were  going  to  Baltimore  to-night," 
I  said.  "  I  am  putting  you  to  so  much 
trouble." 

"  None  at  all.  And  if  you  were  " — with 
a  tremor  in  his  voice — "  I  should  be  glad  of 
it.  Can  you  sit  up?  Ah!  I  am  so  glad  you 
are  better.  When  I  first  took  you  into  this 
carriage  I  was  afraid  I  would  have  to  stop 
with  you  at  the  first  doctor's  office.    We  are 

nearly  home  now." 

276 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

"You  are  very  good,"  I  said,  still  too 
weak  not  to  speak  with  tears  in  my  voice. 

"  I  am  fortunate — but  too  much  at  your 
expense,  I  am  afraid.  You  forget  how  large 
my  debt  is.  I  shall  never  forget  the  old  days 
in  Norfolk  and  the  kindness  that  was  shown 
me  by  you  and  yours.  I  owe  you  a  great 
deal,  Mrs.  Norman,  as  yourself  and  as  your 
father's  daughter.  I  shall  never  forget  his 
charming  hospitality.  I  am  sorry  you  can't 
go  on  to  Baltimore,  but  I  am  glad  of  my 
opportunity." 

"  That  is  a  nice  way  to  put  it,  commo- 
dore." 

"  A  true  way  to  put  it,  Mrs.  Norman. 
Please  don't  be  too  sorry.  Where  is  Nell? — 
Mrs.  Grey,  I  suppose  I  should  say.  I  can't 
think  of  the  saucy  little  fairy  who  used  to 
sit  on  my  knee  as  a  madam." 

"  I  don't  know  just  where  Nell  is,  or  how. 
The  fortunes  of  war  have  separated  me  from 
her,  and  mother  as  well." 

"  And  you  are  alone,  without  kindred,  in 
Baltimore?  " 

"  Yes,  except  my  baby.    I  wish  you  could 
see  Bobby — he  is  so  sweet !  " 
277 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  He  must  be." 

"  He  has  Nell's  eyes  and  her  golden  curls 
— you  remember?  " 

"Too  well!" 

"  And  her  saucy  sweet  ways — wilful  and 
almost  bad — if  he  were  not  so  sweet  and  true. 
But  I  tire  you.  Mothers  who  talk  about  their 
babies  bore  people.  I  make  many  good  re- 
solves not  to  talk  Bobby,  and,  break  every 
one." 

"  You  could  never  tire  me.  I  am 
charmed  to  hear  about  your  boy.  Maybe 
you  can  find  him  a  little  sweetheart  in  my 
house.     Here  we  are." 

He  lifted  me  out  of  the  carriage  and  led 
me  into  the  house. 

"  This  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  dear,"  he 
said  to  his  wife.  "  She  is  sick  and  in  trouble, 
and  I  have  brought  her  to  you.  Her  father's 
home  used  to  be  my  home  in  Norfolk.  Mrs. 
Norman  is  Miss  Duncan  that  was." 

She  had  heard  of  me.  He  began  to  ex- 
plain how  he  had  met  me,  but  she  interrupted. 

"  I  will  come  back  and  hear,"  she  said, 
"  when  I  have  made  Mrs.  Norman  comfort- 
able. She  looks  worn-out.  I  must  take  her 
278 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

to  her  room  and  see  what  I  can  do  to  make 
her  more  at  ease."  While  she  was  talking 
she  had  me  in  a  chair,  holding  my  hand,  and 
giving  me  a  glass  of  wine. 

Commodore  Warren  took  my  Baltimore 
address,  and  went  out  saying  he  would  send 
the  telegrams  at  once — a  special  one  to 
Bobby  all  by  himself. 

Then  Mrs.  Warren  saw  me  to  my  room. 
As  we  passed  through  hallways  and  up  the 
stairs,  our  feet  sank  into  soft,  thick  carpets 
that  gave  back  no  sound.  Through  an  open 
doorway  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  own  ex- 
quisite chamber  and  of  a  cozy  nursery  where 
children's  gowns  were  laid  out  for  the  night. 
Everywhere  around  me  were  evidences  of 
wealth,  luxury,  and  refinement. 

After  a  little  rest  I  felt  better. 

As  I  went  down  to  dinner  I  heard  the 
street  door  open,  and  Commodore  Warren's 
voice  in  the  hall. 

Then  children's  voices: 

"Papa!  papa!" 

He  was  taking  his  children  in  his  arms 
and  kissing  them,  and  I  heard  the  glad  mur- 
mur of  his  wife's  welcome. 
J9  279 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Together  they  took  me  in  to  their  table, 
and  showered  upon  me  courtesies  and  loving- 
kindness.  Such  a  delightful  dining-room  it 
was — such  lovely  appointments  and  such  per- 
fect serving!  and  such  charming  hosts  they 
made!  The  children  are  beautiful  and  well 
trained.  They  were  brought  into  the  parlor 
after  dinner,  and  made  great  friends  with  me. 
You  know  children  always  like  me,  Nell. 
This  trio  took  possession  of  me.  They  hov- 
ered around  me,  leaned  against  me,  climbed 
into  my  lap,  and  the  youngest  went  to  sleep 
in  my  arms,  her  soft  golden  head  nestled 
under  my  chin.  We  decided  that  she  is  to  be 
Bobby's  sweetheart.  Their  parents  were 
afraid  that  I  was  not  strong  enough  for  such 
demonstrations,  but  I  begged  that  they 
would  not  interrupt  the  little  people,  whose 
caresses  really  did  me  a  world  of  good.  But 
the  commodore  called  the  nurse  when  the 
baby  dropped  to  sleep,  and  she  took  it  to  the 
nursery,  the  other  children  following  her.  By 
this  time  I  was  quite  myself.  A  telegram  had 
come  from  Isabelle,  saying  she  was  with 
Bobby  and  that  Bobby  was  comforted. 

Commodore  and  Mrs.  Warren  suggested 
280 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

that  we  should  go  to  the  opera.  It  was 
rather  late  to  start,  but  the  carriage  would 
take  us  in  a  few  minutes,  and  we  should  not 
miss  more  than  the  first  act.  A  great  singer 
was  to  be  heard,  and  the  commodore  remem- 
bered that  I  was  fond  of  music.  When  I  ob- 
jected on  the  score  that  I  was  not  in  opera 
dress  and  that  my  wardrobe  was  in  Balti- 
more, they  explained  that  they  kept  a  private 
box,  and  that  I  could  hear  without  being  dis- 
tinctly visible — if  I  was  not  too  fatigued  to 
think  of  going. 

"  Oh,  no!  "  I  said.  "  You  know  I  love 
opera,  and,  thanks  to  you  both,  I  am  entirely 
rested  and  comfortable  about  Bobby." 

Mrs.  Warren  ran  up-stairs  to  dress  while 
the  carriage  was  being  made  ready.  As  for 
me,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  put  on 
my  bonnet  and  cloak,  so  I  sat  still,  and  Com- 
modore Warren  drew  up  a  chair  in  front  of 
the  sofa  where  I  sat. 

"  This  is  like  old  times,"  he  said. 

I  tried  to  keep  them  back,  but  somehow 
I  felt  the  tears  starting  to  my  eyes. 

He  got  up  and  walked  to  the  other  end  of 
the  room,  and  brought  a  book  of  drawings  of 
281 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

queer  places  and  people  he  had  seen  in  his 
journeys  around  the  world.  While  he  was 
showing  them  to  me  he  remarked: 

"  I've  a  box  somewhere  of  curious  toys 
picked  up  in  various  parts  of  the  world  at 
different  times,  and  I  think  Master  Bobby- 
would  be  interested  in  them.  We'll  get  Mrs. 
Warren  to  look  it  up,  and  I'll  ask  you  to  be 
kind  enough  to  take  it  to  him  with  my  com- 
pliments. It  may — in  a  measure — reconv 
pense  him  for  his  mother's  absence  to-night." 

"  Bobby  will  be  delighted — if  he  is  not 
robbing  your  children." 

"  My  children,"  he  laughed,  "  have  a  sur- 
feit of  toys  from  the  four  corners  of  the  earth. 
They  have  almost  lost  appreciation  of  such 
things.  By  the  way,  has  Nell " — he  caught 
himself  with  a  laugh — "  Mrs.  Grey,  I  should 
say,  any  little  ones  of  her  own?  " 

"  Bobby  is  the  only  baby  in  the  family; 
but  he  is  enough  to  go  around." 

"  I  remember  with  profound  gratitude 
the  many  expressions  I  used  to  receive  of 
Nell's  regard  in  those  old  days,  and  seeing 
you  brings  them  back.  Oh,  forgive  me — I 
know  there  have  been  many  changes." 
282 


Rescued  by  the  Foe 

"  Don't  apologize,"  I  said,  smiling;  "  I 
am  always  glad  to  have  old  days  and  old 
friends  recalled.  Usually  it  does  not  shake 
me  even  to  talk  about  father — it's  a  pleasure 
to  think  people  remember  him.  In  the  first 
part  of  this  evening  I  had  not  quite  recovered 
■from  my  arrest.  But  Richard  is  himself  again 
now.  I  haven't  forgotten  how  to  be  happy, 
and  I'm  going  to  enjoy  this  opera."  And  I 
did  enjoy  it. 

Mrs.  Warren  took  me  to  my  train  in  her 
carriage;  and  there  he  met  us  to  say  good-by 
to  me,  and  to  tell,  me  that  he  would  see  that 
I  had  a  pass  to  Norfolk  in  a  day  or  two. 
They  both  saw  me  comfortably  seated,  and 
after  farewells  were  said  and  he  had  seen  his 
wife  to  her  carriage  he  stepped  back  on  the 
cars  with  a  handful  of  flowers  for  me. 

"  Is  there  nothing,"  he  asked,  "  nothing 
that  I  can  do  for  you?  If  you  are  ever  in 
any  trouble  when  I  can  help  you,  won't  you 
let  me  know?  " 

I  bowed  my  head. 

"  And  Bobby — if  there  is  ever  anything 
I  can  do  for  your  child,  you  will  let  me 
know? 

283 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Good-by,"  he  said,  "  it  is  good  to  meet 
old  friends  and  find  that  neither  time  nor  war 
changes  them.  Good-by — we  shall  see  you 
again  some  day." 

Isabelle  was  very  happy  when  I  told  her 
that  Dick  was  safe,  and  now  that  it  was  over 
she  regretted  having  sent  me  into  such  dan- 
gers and  tribulations. 

"  I  ought  to  have  gone,"  she  said.  "  I 
could  have  taken  the  oath,  you  see,  if  they  had 
asked  me.  And  then,  well,  papa  is  known 
there,  but — I  couldn't  ask  papa  to  help  Dick. 
He  wouldn't  have  done  anything  for  him." 


284 


CHAPTER   XXII 

WITH    DAN   AT    CHARLOTTESVILLE 

Milicent  always  came  as  a  soul  comes. 

The  day  after  we  got  the  batch  of  letters 
the  door  opened  softly,  and  there  she  stood, 
holding  Bobby  by  the  hand.  She  had  come 
so  quietly  that  we  did  not  know  it  until  she 
stood  in  our  midst.  But  Bobby  was  a  ver- 
itable piece  of  flesh  and  blood.  As  soon  as 
he  saw  it  was  grandma  and  auntie,  he  made  a 
bound  for  us,  and  overwhelmed  us  with  his 
noisy  and  affectionate  greetings,  while  his 
mother  submitted  to  being  loved  and  kissed, 
and  in  her  quiet  way  loved  and  kissed  back 
again.  Then  she  told  us  how  she  had  come 
from  Norfolk  to  Petersburg.  It  was  a  long, 
dreary  trip. 

"  I  went  on  a  flag-of-truce  train  to  Suf- 
folk. Dr.  Wright's  family  were  on  the  train, 
and  I  spent  the  night  with  them.  Bobby 
burned  his  throat  at  supper  by  swallowing 
285 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

tea  too  hot  for  him,  and  he  did  not  rest  well 
in  the  early  part  of  the  night  and  slept  late 
the  next  day,  and  I  was  very  anxious  about 
him.  This,  and  the  difficulty  in  getting  a  con- 
veyance, kept  me  at  Dr.  Wright's  until  the 
afternoon.  By  that  time  I  had  secured  a 
mule-cart  to  take  me  to  Ivor  Station,  on  the 
Norfolk  and  Petersburg  Railroad.  Ivor,  you 
;know,  is  not  more  than  twenty-five  miles 
from  Suffolk  by  the  direct  route,  but  the 
route  we  had  to  take  for  safety,  as  far  as  the 
Yankees  and  mud  were  concerned,  was 
longer,  and  our  one  mule  went  slowly. 

"  The  first  afternoon  we  traveled  till  late 
jn  the  night.  Bobby  would  insist  on  driving 
the  mule,  and  the  driver  humored  him.  In 
spite  of  the  pain  in  his  throat,  he  stood  up 
against  my  knee  and  held  the  lines  until,  poor 
little  tired  fellow!  he  went  to  sleep  holding 
them.  I  drew  him  on  to  my  lap,  covered  him 
up,  and  we  went  on,  the  old  negro,  old  mule, 
and  baby  all  asleep.  At  last  we  stopped  at  a 
farmhouse  to  feed  the  mule.  The  woman  who 
lived  there  asked  me  in.  I  laid  Bobby  down 
on  her  bed,  dropped  across  it,  and  in  five  min- 
utes was  asleep  myself.  I  don't  know  how 
286 


With  Dan  at  Charlottesville 

many  other  people  slept  in  that  bed  that 
night,  but  I  know  that  the  old  woman,  Bobby, 
and  I  slept  in  it.  When  I  woke  up  it  was  sev- 
eral hours  after  daylight.  Our  breakfast  the 
next  morning  was  a  typical  Confederate 
breakfast.  My  hostess  gave  me  a  drink  made 
of  parched  wheat  and  corn  which  had  been 
ground,  a  glass  of  milk,  and  some  corn  bread 
and  bacon,  and  I  enjoyed  the  meal  and  paid 
her  cheerfully. 

"  We  reached  Ivor  late  that  afternoon, 
my  driver  got  his  fee  and  departed,  and 
Bobby  and  I  were  left  to  wait  for  the  train. 
But  we  were  not  the  only  persons  at  the  sta- 
tion; two  other  women  were  waiting  at  Ivor. 
If  those  two  women  could  have  had  their 
way  there  would  never  have  been  another 
sunset  on  this  earth.  Their  two  sons  were  to 
be  shot  at  sundown — they  were  watching  for 
the  sun  to  go  down.  Up  and  down,  up  and 
down,  they  walked  in  front  of  a  tent  where 
their  sons  under  military  guard  awaited  ex- 
ecution, and  as  they  walked  their  eyes,  swift 
and  haggard,  shifted  from  tent  to  sky  and 
back  again  from  sky  to  tent.  As  my  train 
moved  out  of  the  station  I  glanced  back. 
287 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

They  were  walking  with  feverish  haste,  and 
the  sun  hung  low  in  the  heavens." 

"Hush,  hush!"  I  cried,  "I  can't  stand 
another  word — I  shall  dream  of  those  women 
all  night.  Tell  me  how  you  got  here  at 
last!" 

"  When  I  reached  Pocahontas  I  meant  to 
go  to  Jarrett's,  and  stop  until  I  could  find  out 
where  you  were,  but  while  I  was  looking 
around  for  a  carriage  who  should  I  come 
upon  but  John,  our  old  hackman.  He  told 
me  that  you  were  both  out  here  at  Uncle 
William's,  and  I  made  him  drive  me  out." 

Soon  after  my  sister's  arrival  we  moved 
into  town  and  boarded  at  Miss  Anne  Walker's, 
an  old  historic  house  then  facing  Washing- 
ton Street,  which  runs  east  and  west,  parallel- 
ing the  railroad  at  Jarrett's  Hotel — or  rather 
where  Jarrett's  used  to  stand — an  ugly  old 
hotel  in  the  heart  of  the  town.  It  was  be- 
side this  railroad  that  I  ran  bareheaded  along 
Washington  Street  some  months  later  to  get 
out  of  the  way  of  the  Yankee  cannon.  I 
was  at  Miss  Anne's  when  Dan  gave  me  leave 
to  visit  him  at  Charlottesville.  His  head- 
quarters was  a  small  cottage  in  sight  of  the 
288 


With  Dan  at  Charlottesville 

university  and  of  my  window.  He  came 
home  every  night — home  was  a  student's 
room  in  the  university — and  very  often  I 
went  with  him  in  the  morning  to  his  cottagfc. 

One  morning  as  I  sat  in  the  cottage,  turn- 
ing a  pair  of  Dan's  old  trousers,  the  door 
opened,  and  a  fine-looking  cavalry  officer 
entered.  Surprised  to  find  a  lady  in  occupa- 
tion, he  lifted  his  hat  and  started  to  withdraw. 
Then  he  hesitated,  regarding  me  in  a  con- 
fused, doubtful  fashion.  Whereupon  I  in  my 
turn  began  to  stare  at  him. 

"  Isn't  this  John — John  Mason?  "  I  asked 
suddenly. 

"  That  is  my  name,"  with  a  sweeping 
bow.  "  And  are  you  not  my  old  friend,  Miss 
Nellie  Duncan,  of  Norfolk?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  smiling,  "  but  you 
know  I  have  a  third  name  now." 

"  Of  course.  Unpleasant  facts  are  always 
hard  to  remember.  I  heard  of  your  mar- 
riage, certainly,  but  for  the  moment  the  re- 
membrance of  it  escaped  me.  You  are  here 
with  the  major?  " 

The  last  time  I  had  seen  John  was  on  that 
day  which  closed  the  chapter  of  my  happy 
289 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

girlhood  in  Norfolk.  He  had  been  with  me 
when  the  telegram  came  telling  us  that  father 
could  not  live,  and  from  that  day  to  this  I 
rfcd  never  seen  him  until  he  surprised  me 
patching  Dan's  old  trousers  in  the  cottage 
at  Charlottesville. 

He  took  the  chair  opposite,  and  began 
talking  about  the  work  I  was  doing  and  the 
evidence  it  bore  to  my  being  a  good  wife. 
But  so  far  from  being  pleased  I  was  very 
much  mortified,  for  the  old  trousers  were  in 
a  dreadful  state  of  wear  and  tear,  and  he  was 
resplendent  in  a  new  uniform.  But  after  a 
while  we  dropped  the  trousers,  and  got  on 
the  subject  of  Norfolk  and  old  times,  and  had 
quite  a  pleasant  chat  till  my  husband  came 
in  and  he  and  John  turned  their  attention  to 
business. 

I  was  seeing  more  of  my  husband  than  at 
any  previous  or  later  period  of  the  war,  and 
having  altogether  a  delightful  time.  One  of 
the  things  I  enjoyed  most  were  our  horse- 
back rides. 

Dan  had  two  horses  for  his  own  use — 
Tom  Hodges,  his  old  army  horse,  and  Nellie 
Grey,  a  fine  new  mare  that  he  had  christened 
290 


With  Dan  at  Charlottesville 

for  me.  When  his  horse  was  shot  under  him 
in  that  charge  which  has  been  mentioned  be- 
fore, the  people  of  his  native  town  had  sent 
him  Nellie  Grey  in  its  stead.  Nellie  w#s 
a  beautiful  creature,  docile  but  very  spirited, 
and  I  was  not  often  trusted  to  ride  her  unless 
Dan  himself  was  along.  Tom  Hodges  was 
not  so  handsome,  but  he  was  a  horse  of  de- 
corous ideas  and  steadfast  principles. 

I  remember  well  my  first  ride  on  Nellie 
Grey.  I  had  the  reputation  of  being  an  ex- 
cellent horsewoman,  and  Dan  wanted  to  show 
me  off.  He  was  inordinately  proud  of  me,  to 
my  great  delight,  but  I  could  have  dispensed 
with  the  form  his  vanity  took  on  that  day. 

As  we  rode  in  an  easy  canter  down  Uni- 
versity Avenue  he  gave  Nellie  Grey  a  cut, 
without  my  knowledge,  that  sent  her  off  like 
the  wind  in  a  regular  cavalry  gallop. 

Well,  I  kept  my  seat — somehow — and  I 
brought  her  to  her  senses  and  a  standstill, 
and  then  I  looked  back  to  see  Dan  beaming 
with  pride  and  pleasure. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  this  horse?  "  I 
asked.    "  She's  a  fool !  " 

Then  Dan  told  me  of  that  secret  cut. 
291 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  I  knew  just  what  she  would  do,"  he 
saidr  "  and  I  knew  what  you'd  do.  I  wanted 
to  show  the  boys  over  there  what  pluck  my 
wife's  got." 

"  Dan,"  I  said  solemnly,  "  it's  not  Nellie 
Grey  that's  the  fool." 

I  was  breathless  and  vexed,  and  I  had  to 
use  the  strongest  language  at  my  command 
to  express  my  opinion  of  Nellie  Grey,  but 
it  wasn't  strong  enough  to  express  my  feel- 
ings toward  Dan!  I  simply  had  to  look  my 
thoughts ! 

"  You  see,  wifie,"  he  went  on  apologetic- 
ally, "  you  did  look  so  pretty  and  plucky  that 
you  ought  to  have  seen  yourself." 

Sam  had  gone  home  on  a  furlough,  and 
in  his  place  Dan  had  a  very  magnificent  body- 
servant  named  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  and  an 
under  -  boy  named  Solomon.  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  brushed  the  major's  boots,  and 
Solomon  brushed  Napoleon's.  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  was  a  bright  mulatto,  Solomon 
was  as  black  as  tar.  It  was  Napoleon  Bona- 
parte's business  to  supply  my  room  with 
wood,  but  this  task  he  delegated  to  Solomon. 
Whatever  menial  work  the  major  ordered 
292 


With  Dan  at  Charlottesville 

Napoleon  Bonaparte  to  do,  Napoleon  turned 
over  to  Solomon.  "  Solomon,"  he  said, 
"  was  nothin'  but  a  free  nigger  nohow."  It 
came  to  pass  finally  that  Solomon,  ostensibly 
hired  to  one  master,  in  reality  served  two. 
Of  course,  Napoleon  Bonaparte  feathered  his 
own  nest  and  worked  things  so  that  the  major 
was  really  paying  two  men  to  do  the  work 
of  one.  When  the  major  could  not  ride 
with  me,  he  sent  Napoleon  Bonaparte  to  act 
as  groom.  This  Napoleon  Bonaparte  es- 
teemed an  honor,  and  he  only  appointed  Solo- 
mon in  his  stead  when  he  himself  was  in  de- 
mand as  equerry  for  the  major.  Napoleon 
always  elected  to  follow  the  major*  in  such 
case,  as  that  was  higher  employment  in  his 
eyes  than  riding  behind  me.  One  morning  I 
stood  waiting  in  my  habit  a  long  time  for  the 
horses.  At  last  when  they  appeared  Solo- 
mon came  on  a  sorry  mount,  leading  Tom 
Hodges.  The  procession  moved  at  a  snail's 
pace,  and  Solomon  looked  dreadfully  glum. 

"  What  makes  you  so  late?  "  I  asked  im- 
patiently. 

"  Dunno  'zackly,  marm.  Evvybody  in  de 
camp  got  de  debbul  in  'em.  Major,  he  got 
293 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

de  debbul  in  him!  'Poleon  Bonaparte,  he  got 
de  debbul  in  him.  An'  evvybody  got  de 
debbul  in  'em!  " 

"  There  seem  to  have  been  a  great  many 
devils  in  camp.  Wasn't  there  one  to  spare  for 
you,  Solomon?  " 

"  Nor'm,  I  ain't  had  no  debbul  in  me — 
me  an'  Tom  Hodges.  We's  been  de  onliest 
peaceable  people  in  camp.  Ef  I  hadn't  er 
kep'  de  peace,  me  an'  'Poleon  Bonaparte 
would  ha'  fit,  sho!" 

"  I  should  think  you  would  like  to  fight 
Napoleon — I  should,  if  I  were  you." 

"  Nor'm,  I  don'  b'lieve  in  no  fightin' — 
'cep'in'  'tis  ter  fit  de  Yankees.  I'm  er  peace^ 
able  man,  I  is." 

I  told  Dan  what  a  bad  report  Solomon 
had  made  out  against  him. 

He  laughed.  "  Solomon  has  the  grumps 
this  morning.  He  seemed  to  have  quite  a 
time  with  your  namesake,  as  well  as  with  the 
rest  of  us.  Napoleon  Bonaparte  sent  him  to 
rub  Nellie  Grey  down  and  saddle  her  for  me. 
The  mare  threw  her  head  up  and  jerked  him 
about  a  little,  and  we  could  hear  him  saying: 
'Whoa!  Nellie  Grey,  whoa!  You  got  de 
294 


With  Dan  at  Charlottesville 

debbul  in  you  too !  Who-a,  Nellie  Grey! '  Be- 
tween the  two  of  them  I  am  having  rather 
a  hard  time  lately,"  said  Dan.  "  Solomon 
blames  'Poleon  Bonaparte  directly  for  all  the 
hard  times  he  has,  and  me  indirectly.  If 
something  isn't  done  as  it  should  be,  and  I 
take  Napoleon  to  task,  he  lays  it  thick  and 
hard  on  Solomon.  Solomon  did  have  a  time 
of  it  at  camp  this  morning.  You  see,  'Poleon 
Bonaparte  is  very  particular  about  the  way 
the  horses  are  kept,  but  he  makes  Solomon 
do  all  the  rubbing  down,  and  Solomon 
doesn't  understand  how  to  manage  horses 
and  is  a  little  afraid  of  them.  'Poleon  Bona- 
parte found  fault  with  his  job  this  morning, 
and  made  him  rub  Nellie  Grey  down  twice. 
It  naturally  occurred  to  Nellie  that  so  much 
rubbing  meant  an  opportunity  for  playing. 
Black  Solomon  really  was  the  good  angel  at 
camp,  for  before  he  and  Nellie  Grey  got  us 
to  laughing,  swearing  had  been  thick  enough 
to  cut  with  a  knife.  I  had  turned  loose  on 
'Poleon,  and  'Poleon  had  turned  loose  on 
Solomon." 

"  Dan,  what  makes  you  keep  them  both?  " 

"Keep   them   both!      I   don't.      I   don't 
20  2Q5 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

want  either  of  them,  but  I  can't  get  rid  of 
them." 

"  Make  Napoleon  do  his  work  and  send 
Solomon  off." 

"Make!  Nell,  how  you  talk!  And  To- 
leon's  got  just  as  much  right  to  hire  a  nigger 
as  I  have  to  own  one." 

And  during  our  stay  in  Charlottesville 
Dan's  servants  gave  him  "  more  trouble/'  he 
said,  "  than  fighting  the  Yankees."  But  it 
was  a  very  happy  time  in  my  life. 

The  late  springtime  of  '64  found  me  again 
in  Petersburg. 

More  vacant  chairs,  more  broken  hearts, 
more  suffering,  and  starvation  nearer  at  hand 
was  what  I  found  there.  Milicent  was  spend- 
ing her  time  in  nursing  the  sick  and  wounded 
in  the  hospital,  and  winning  from  them  the 
name  that  has  clung  to  her  ever  since.  There 
are  old  white-haired  men  in  the  South  who 
still  call  her  "  Madonna." 


296 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

"  INTO   THE   JAWS    OF   DEATH  " 

One  lovely  morning  mother  sat  at  an 
upper  window  shelling  peas  for  dinner.  The 
window  commanded  a  view  of  the  Petersburg 
heights  and  beyond.  Presently  she  stopped 
shelling  peas,  and  gazed  intently  out  of  the 
window. 

"What  is  that  on  the  heights,  Nellie?" 
she  asked,  and  then,  "What  men  are  those 
running  about  on  the  hill  beyond?  " 

I  came  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
The  hills  looked  blue. 

With  a  sinking  heart  I  got  the  field-glass 
and  turned  it  southeast.  The  hills  swarmed 
with  soldiers  in  Federal  uniforms!  Men  in 
gray  were  galloping  up  to  the  Reservoir  and 
unlimbering  guns.  We  heard  the  roar  of 
cannon,  the  rattle  of  musketry.  The  heavens 
were  filled  with  fire  and  smoke.  Men  in  blue 
were  vanishing  as  they  came;  they  thought 
297 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Reservoir  Hill  a  fort.  That  was  the  ninth  of 
June,  when  125  old  men  and  boys  saved  the 
town  by  holding  Kautz's  command,  1,800 
strong,  at  bay  on  the  Jerusalem  Plank  Road 
as  long  as  they  could  and  long  enough  to 
give  Graham's  and  Studivant's  batteries  and 
Dearing's  cavalry  time  to  rush  to  the  front. 
The  Ninth  of  June  is  Petersburg's  Memorial 
Day,  her  day  of  pride  and  sorrow. 

A  few  days  after — mother  was  shelling  peas 
again — whiz!  whack!  a  shell  sung  through 
the  air,  striking  in  Boiling  Square.  Whiz! 
whack!  came  another,  and  struck  Mrs.  Dun- 
lop's  house  two  doors  from  us.  Mrs.  De 
Voss,  our  neighbor  on  one  side,  and  Mrs. 
Williams  and  her  two  daughters  who  lived  on 
the  other,  ran  in,  pale  with  terror,  and 
clamored  to  go  down  into  our  cellar.  We 
were  like  frightened  sheep.  I  half  laugh,  half 
cry  now  with  vexation  to  think  how  calmly 
and  stubbornly  mother  sat  shelling  peas  in 
that  window.  She  was  bent  on  finishing  her 
peas  before  she  moved.  Finally  we  induced 
her  to  go  with  us,  and  we  all  went  down  into 
the  cellar.  There  we  huddled  together  for 
the  rest  of  the  day,  and  until  late  into  the 
298 


"  Into  the  Jaws  of  Death  '* 

night,  not  knowing  what  went  on  above  or 
outside,  little  Bobby  asleep  in  his  mother's 
lap,  and  the  rest  of  us  too  frightened  to  sleep. 
At  last,  when  we  had  heard  no  guns  for  a 
long  time,  we  crept  upstairs  and  lay  down 
on  our  beds  and  tried  to  sleep.  The  next 
morning  the  shelling  began  again.  Shells 
.flew  all  around  us.  One  struck  in  the  yard 
next  to  ours;  another  horrid,  smoking  thing 
dropped  in  our  own  yard.  We  decided  that  it 
was  time  to  abandon  the  house. 

As  the  firing  came  from  the  south  and  the 
east,  and  the  Appomattox  was  on  the  north 
of  the  city,  we  could  only  turn  to  the  west. 
Any  other  direction  and  we  would  have  run 
toward  the  guns  or  into  the  river.  With  no 
more  rhyme  or  reason  than  this  in  our  course 
we  started  up  Washington  Street,  running 
west,  but  without  regard  to  the  order  of  our 
going. 

Crossing  the  railroad  at  Jarrett's  Hotel,  I 
saw  a  Confederate  soldier  whom  I  recognized 
as  an  old  playmate  and  friend  of  Norfolk 
days.     We  stopped  each  other. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from,  Harry?  " 

"  Where  are  you  running  to,  Nell?  " 
299 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Why,  we  were  at  Miss  Anne  Walker's 
and  the  shells  were  bursting  in  our  yard,  and 
we  are  getting  out  of  the  way." 

Zip!  a  shell  passed  over  my  head  and  burst 
a  few  yards  away.  I  didn't  wait  to  say  good-by, 
but  ran  along  Washington  Street  for  my  life. 
At  last  we  got  to  Mr.  Venable's  house,  which 
was  out  of  the  range  of  the  guns,  and  there 
we  stopped  with  others.  Many  people  had 
passed  us  on  our  way,  and  we  had  passed 
many  people,  all  running  through  Washing- 
ton Street  for  dear  life.  Everybody  seemed 
to  be  running;  in  Mr.  Venable's  house  quite 
a  crowd  was  gathered.  His  family  were  from 
home,  but  their  friends  rilled  the  house.  We 
watched  from  doors  and  windows,  and  talked 
of  our  friends  who  had  fallen,  of  the  Ninth 
of  June,  and  of  how  Fort  Hell  and  Fort 
Damnation  got  their  names.  We  spoke  of  a 
friend  who  had  kissed  wife  and  children  good- 
by,  and  gone  out  that  fateful  Ninth  with 
the  militia  up  the  Jerusalem  Plank  Road  to 
Fort  Hell.  Later  in  the  day  a  wagon  had 
come  lumbering  up  to  the  door,  blood  drip- 
ping from  it  as  it  jolted  along.  In  it  lay  the 
husband  and  father,  literally  shot  to  pieces. 
300 


"  Into  the  Jaws  of  Death  " 

His  little  boy  walked  weeping  behind  it. 
His  widow  had  shrouded  him  with  her  own 
hands,  and  trimmed  his  bier  herself  with  the 
fragrant  June  flowers  that  were  growing  in 
her  yard — flowers  which  he  had  loved  and 
helped  to  tend.  She  had  a  house  full  of  little 
ones  around  her.  She  had  never  known  how 
to  work,  and  now  she  was  going  about  find- 
ing tasks  to  do,  bearing  up  bravely  and 
strengthening  her  children,  she  who  had  been 
as  dependent  upon  her  husband  for  love  and 
tenderness  as  his  children  were  upon  her. 

As  the  day  waned  we  saw  people  hurrying 
past  the  Venable  home  bearing  the  wounded. 
I  remember  one  poor  fellow  who  was  lying 
on  a  stretcher  that  was  borne  by  his  friends. 
He  seemed  to  be  shot  almost  to  pieces.  Gray- 
coats  were  passing  now,  marching  into  the 
city. 

As  we  sat  at  supper  that  night — a  large 
party  it  was  at  that  hospitable  board — a  serv- 
ant brought  a  message  to  the  three  of  us. 
A  gentleman — a  soldier — wished  to  see  us. 
I  went  into  the  hall,  and  there  was  Walter 
Taylor.  I  don't  think  I  was  ever  so  glad  to 
see  anybody  in  my  life.  Walter  was  not  only 
301 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Walter,"  but  he  was  General  Lee's  adjutant, 
and  the  very  sight  of  him  meant  help  to  us. 
What  did  mother,  Millie,  and  I  do  but  throw 
our  arms  around  his  neck  and  kiss  him  like 
crazy  women. 

"  I  can't  stop  a  minute,"  he  said.  "  I 
heard  you  were  here,  and  felt  that  I  must  come 
out  to  see  how  you  were  getting  along. 
But  I  must  go  straight  back  to  my  com- 
mand. Let  me  know  if  I  can  do  anything 
for  you." 

"Walter,  where  is  Dan?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Nell,  but  I  think  he  will 
be  here  to-night — if  he  is  not  here  already." 

We  felt  like  clinging  to  Walter  and  hold- 
ing him  back.  I  for  one  had  lost  my  nerve. 
I  was  sick  of  war,  sick  of  the  butchery,  the 
anguish,  the  running  hither  and  thither,  the 
fear.  Soon  after  supper  my  husband  came  in. 
I  was  tremblingly  glad  to  see  him  again,  to 
touch  his  warm  living  body,  to  see  that  he 
was  not  maimed  and  mutilated — yet  it  hung 
over  me  all  the  time  that  he  must  go  away 
in  a  few  minutes — to  come  back,  or  be 
brought  back — how?  I  kept  my  hand  on 
him  all  the  time  he  sat  beside  me.  Every 
302 


"Into  the  Jaws  of  Death'* 

time  he  moved  I  trembled,  feeling  that  it  was 
a  move  to  go. 

"  What  are  you  doing  out  here? "  he 
asked;  "  I  thought  you  were  at  Miss  Anne's 
and  went  there  for  you." 

"  We  left  there." 

"  What  for?  " 

"  The  shells  were  flying  all  around  us,  and 
we  were  afraid,  and  ran  out  here,  I  tell  you." 

"Afraid?  Why,  Nell,  you  weren't 
afraid? " 

"  Yes,  I  am— I'm  terrified." 

"  A  soldier's  wife  —  a  regular  cam- 
paigner! " 

"  I  can't  help  it.    I'm  scared." 

"  After  all  you've  been  through,  like  the 
brave  girl  you  are,  to  break  down  like  a 
coward!  " 

"  I  can't  help  what  you  call  me,  I'm 
scared — I'm  scared  to  death." 

"  Nell,  I'm  ashamed  of  you." 

"  I  can't  help  it,  Dan;  I'm  scared." 

"  What  would  General  Stuart  say  if  he 
could  know? " 

"  I  don't  care  what  he  would  think.  I'm 
terrified.  I'm  going  to  run  from  those  shells 
303 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

as  long  as  there  is  a  place  to  run  to.  I'm 
not  going  to  stand  still  and  let  a  shell  strike 
me  to  please  anybody.  I'm  for  getting  away 
from  town.  If  I  had  my  way  we'd  take  to 
the  woods  this  night,  and  let  the  Yankees 
have  it." 

"  They'd  mighty  soon  find  us  in  the 
woods." 

"  Then  I'd  move  on.  They  can  have 
everywhere  they  come  to  now,  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned." 

Dan  looked  aghast.  I  was  completely  de- 
moralized. Knowing  he  must  go,  I  sum- 
moned all  my  strength  and  braced  myself  for 
the  parting,  but  though  Dan  was  sorry  for  me, 
my  effort  to  be  brave  was  so  comical  that  he 
had  to  laugh.  By  morning  the  range  of  the 
guns  was  changed,  shells  were  flying  all  over 
the  city,  and  our  present  quarters  were  not 
exempt.  Zip!  zip!  crack!  bang!  the  nasty 
things  went  everywhere. 

We  piled  ourselves,  pell-mell,  helter-skel- 
ter into  the  first  ambulance  we  could  get  and 
started  out  Washington  Street  again  as  fast 
as  ever  we  could  get  the  driver  to  urge  his 
horses. 

304 


"  Into  the  Jaws  of  Death  " 

Everybody  was  racing  out  Washington 
Street,  still  running  west.  Pell-mell,  helter- 
skelter,  they  ran,  any  way  to  get  out  of  the 
range  of  the  horrid,  whizzing,  singing,  zip- 
ping bombs.  We  met  Mr.  Mcllvaine  driv- 
ing toward  town,  that  is,  in  the  direction  from 
which  we  were  running. 

He  hailed  us. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  We  don't  know  where  we  are  going. 
We  are  not  going  anywhere  that  we  know 
of." 

"  Go  to  my  house.  My  family  are  away, 
but  I  can  make  you  welcome.  Quite  a  num- 
ber of  people  are  out  there  now." 

We  found  this  to  be  the  literal  truth.  All 
the  floors  were  covered  with  mattresses — if 
you  rolled  off  your  own  mattress  you  rolled 
on  to  some  one  else's,  for  they  were  laid  so 
thick  that  they  touched.  But  things  might 
always  be  worse. 

Mr.  Mcllvaine  had  an  excellent  cook. 
She  made  delicious  rolls  and  wonderful  muf- 
fins and  wafers,  and  as  far  as  skill  went  our 
provisions  were  turned  into  delicious  food. 
There  was  quite  a  colony — seven  women  be- 
305 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

sides  ourselves — and  we  told  Mr.  Mcllvaine 
that  we  could  not  expect  him  to  feed  us  all, 
that  we  were  thankful  enough  for  shelter  and 
to  have  our  cooking  done,  and  that  we  would 
all  throw  in  and  buy  provisions.  So  we  made 
a  common  fund,  and  sent  for  such  things  as 
could  be  had  by  Mr.  Mcllvaine  whenever  he 
went  into  town. 

My  husband  came  out  to  see  me  quite 
often  during  the  weeks  that  followed,  and 
Colonel  Taylor  and  many  of  our  military 
friends  remembered  us  by  dropping  in  to  tea 
and  spending  an  evening  with  us  when  they 
could.  There  was  a  piano  in  the  parlor,  and 
our  evenings  were  often  gay  with  singing, 
music,  and  dancing.  There  was  but  one  serv- 
ant on  the  place  as  I  remember — the  cook  I 
have  spoken  of,  and  whom  I  remember 
vividly  and  affectionately  for  the  good  things 
to  eat  she  set  before  us.  To  cook  for  us, 
however,  was  about  all  she  could  do.  We 
had  but  few  clothes  with  us,  and  when  these 
got  soiled  there  was  no  washerwoman  to  be 
had,  so  when  Sue  Williams  said  she  was  go- 
ing to  wash  her  clothes  herself  we  all  got  up 
our  washings,  and  went  down  into  the  back 
306 


"  Into  the  Jaws  of  Death  " 

yard  with  her.  We  found  some  tubs  and 
drew  our  water,  and  made  up  some  fire  under 
a  pot,  as  we  had  seen  the  negroes  do.  I  can 
see  Sue  now,  drawing  water  and  lifting 
buckets  back  and  forth  from  the  well.  We 
tied  some  clothes  up  in  a  sheet  and  put  them 
into  the  pot  to  boil;  then  we  put  some  other 
clothes  in  a  tub  and  began  to  wash;  mean- 
while we  had  to  keep  up  the  fire  under  the 
pot.  It  was  dinner  hour  by  the  time  we  got 
thus  far.  The  weather  was  very  hot  and 
we  were  dreadfully  tired,  and  we  hadn't  got 
any  clothes  on  the  line  yet.  We  stopped  to 
swallow  our  dinner,  and  went  at  it  again. 
The  sun  was  going  down  when  we  had  a  pile 
of  clothes  washed,  rinsed,  and  wrung,  ready 
for  the  line.  We  didn't  know  what  to  do 
about  it.  There  didn't  seem  to  be  any  prec- 
edent that  we  had  ever  known  for  hanging 
clothes  out  at  sundown.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  we  didn't  spread  them  out  they  would  mil- 
dew— we  had  heard  of  such  things.  If  they 
had  to  be  spread  out,  certainly  there  was  no 
better  place  to  spread  them  than  on  the  line. 
So  at  sunset  we  hung  out  our  clothes  to  dry. 
There  were  handkerchiefs  on  the  line  and  a 
307 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

petticoat  apiece.  The  rest  of  the  clothes 
were  in  the  pot  and  the  tub,  and  they  are 
there  now  for  aught  I  know  to  the  contrary. 
I  don't  know  what  became  of  them,  but  I 
know  we  went  into  the  house  and  went  to 
bed  with  the  backache  and  every  other  sort 
of  ache.  I  have  never  in  all  my  life  worked 
so  hard  as  I  worked  that  day  trying  to  wash 
my  clothes  out;  and  the  next  day  the  clothes 
on  the  line  looked  yellow  for  all  the  labor 
that  was  put  upon  them.  I  have  never  known 
why  they  looked  yellow — not  for  lack  of  work, 
for  we  had  rubbed  holes  in  some  of  them. 
We  did  not  undertake  to  iron  them  for  fear 
we  should  make  them  look  still  worse,  but 
wore  them  rough  dry. 

Early  one  morning  we  waked  suddenly, 
and  sprang  to  our  feet  and  reached  for  each 
other's  trembling  hands.  There  had  been  a 
sudden  and  terrific  noise.  The  earth  was 
shaking.  That  awful  thunder!  that  horrible 
quaking  of  the  earth!  as  if  its  very  bowels 
were  being  rent  asunder!  What  was  it? 
We  tried  to  whisper  to  each  other  through 
the  darkness  of  our  rooms,  but  our  tongues 
were  dry  and  palsied  with  fear.  We  feared 
308 


"Into  the  Jaws  of  Death" 

to  draw  the  curtains  of  our  windows,  we 
dared  not  move.  That  was  the  morning  of 
the  30th  of  July,  the  morning  when  the 
Crater  was  made — when  an  entire  regiment 
was  blown  into  the  air,  and  when  into  the 
pit  left  behind  them  Federals  and  Confed- 
erates marched  over  each  other,  and  fought 
all  day  like  tigers  in  a  hole.  If  you  ever  go 
to  the  quaint  old  town  of  Petersburg,  you  can 
drive  out  the  old  Jerusalem  Plank  Road  to 
Forts  Hell  and  Damnation,  and  you  can  turn 
out  of  it  to  a  large  hole  in  the  earth  which 
is  called  the  Crater.  The  last  time  I  was  at 
the  Crater  it  was  lined  with  grass;  some  sas- 
safras bushes  grew  on  the  sides;  down  in  the 
hollow  was  a  peach-tree  in  blossom,  a  mock- 
ing-bird sang  in  it,  and  a  rabbit  hopped  away 
as  I  looked  down. 

Soon  after  the  explosion  occurred,  we 
saw  from  our  windows  that  the  Mcllvaine 
place  was  swarming  with  soldiers  who  were 
throwing  up  earthworks  everywhere.  They 
were  our  own  soldiers,  of  course,  and  we  ap- 
plied for  an  ambulance  and  got  one,  and  went 
back  in  it  to  Miss  Anne's  in  town. 

I  shall  never  forget  how  that  deserted 
309 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

house  felt  when  we  three  women  and  little 
Bobby  entered  it.  The  dust  was  on  every-? 
thing  and  there  was  a  musty  smell  about 
everywhere.  That  night  Millie  had  high 
fever.  Such  a  wretched  night  as  it  was!  no 
servants,  no  conveniences,  little  or  no  food; 
Millie  in  a  raging  fever,  little  sleepy  Bobby 
crying  for  his  mother  and  his  supper;  the 
shock  of  the  Crater  still  upon  us,  danger 
underneath,  overhead,  everywhere.  The  next 
morning  Millie's  fever  was  lower,  and  she 
seemed  better. 

"  We  must  get  her  away  from  here,  or 
she  will  die,"  mother  said. 

But  how?  We  could  hear  nothing  of  Dan, 
and  didn't  know  where  to  find  him.  Mother 
sent  a  note  to  General  Mahone  by  a  passing 
soldier  asking  for  a  pass  to  Richmond.  Her 
reply  was  an  ambulance  and  a  driver  who 
brought  a  note  from  the  general,  saying  that 
we  would  be  taken  outside  of  the  city  to  the 
nearest  point  to  where  our  trains  from  Rich- 
mond were  allowed  to  come.  We  got  Millie 
into  the  ambulance  and  were  taken  to  the 
Dunlops',  a  beautiful  place  on  the  Richmond 
Railroad.  Here  we  waited  for  a  train  which 
310 


"  Into  the  Jaws  of  Death  " 

did  not  come.  Night  came  on;  still  we 
waited,  but  no  train.  We  sent  into  the  house 
and  asked  for  lodgings.  Answer  came  that 
the  house  was  full,  and  no  more  people 
could  be  taken  in.  Millie's  fever  continued 
to  rise.  We  sent  again,  saying  how  ill  she 
was,  and  begging  for  shelter  for  the  night. 
The  same  answer  was  returned,  and  there 
we  were  out  on  the  lawn,  our  shawls  spread 
on  two  trunks  and  Millie  lying  on  them, 
and  looking  as  if  every  breath  would  be  her 
last. 

"  Do  you  know  where  Colonel  Walter 
Taylor  is  stationed?  "  I  asked  our  driver. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  I  know  exactly  where  he 
is.     His  camp  is  about  a  mile  from  here." 

"  How  could  I  get  a  note  to  him?  " 

"  I  will  go  with  it.  I'll  take  one  of  the 
horses  out  of  the  ambulance." 

I  scratched  off: 

"  Dear  Walter:     We  are  out  in   the 
woods  near  Dunlop's  without  any  shelter,  and 
Millie  is  very  ill.     Can  you  help  us? 
"  Affectionately, 

"  Nell." 

21  311 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

The  driver  took  the  note  and  Walter 
came  back  with  him. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do,  Nell,"  he 
said.  "  There  is  no  train  to  Richmond  till 
noon  to-morrow,  but  you  can't  stay  out 
here." 

He  went  himself  to  the  house,  but  with- 
out effect. 

"  I  will  send  you  a  tent  and  a  doctor," 
he  said.  "  That  is  the  best  I  can  do  for  you. 
I  wish  I  could  stay  here  with  you  all  and  help 
take  care  of  Millie  to-night,  but  I  must  go 
back  at  once." 

The  tent  came  and  with  it  Dr.  Newton, 
and  Millie  was  made  as  comfortable  as  was 
possible  on  the  trunks. 

An  old  negress  who  was  passing  saw  our 
strait  and  brought  us  her  pillow  in  a  clean 
pillow-case,  and  we  put  that  under  Millie's 
head.  We  gave  "  aunty  "  some  tea  that  we 
had  with  us,  and  she  took  it  to  her  cabin 
and  drew  us  a  cup  or  two  over  her  fire,  and 
we  got  Millie  to  swallow  a  little  of  it.  We 
had  picked  Bobby  up  off  the  grass,  and 
dropped  him  on  a  pile  of  bags  in  a  corner  of 
the  tent. 

312 


"Into  the  Jaws  of  Death" 

At  one  time  that  night  we  thought  Mil- 
lie would  die — the  doctor  himself  was  doubt- 
ful if  she  could  live  till  morning.  When 
morning  came  she  was  alive,  and  that  was  all. 
Dr.  Newton  sent  for  a  stretcher  and  had  her 
lifted  on  it  into  the  train.  That  was  a  terrible 
journey;  there  were  many  delays,  and  we 
thought  we  should  never  get  to  Richmond, 
but  we  were  there  at  last.  We  went  into  the 
waiting-room  at  the  station  and  sent  for  Major 
Grey's  brother.  Fortunately,  he  was  quickly 
found,  and  took  us  to  the  house  at  which  he 
boarded  and  where  there  was  a  vacant  room. 
The  city  was  crowded,  and  on  such  short 
notice  it  was  the  best  he  could  do,  but  it  was 
a  stifling  little  place. 

The  room  was  small,  its  only  window 
opened  on  a  little  dark  hallway,  there  was 
an  objectionable  closet  attached  to  the  room, 
and  the  close,  unwholesome  air  made  me  sick 
and  faint  as  we  opened  the  door.  We  laid 
Millie  on  the  bed.  Suddenly  she  gasped, 
moaned  something  that  sounded  like  "  I  am 
dying! "  and  seemed  to  be  dead. 

"  Air!  "  cried  mother  hopelessly,  "  she 
needs  air." 

313 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

But  there  was  no  window  for  Dick  to 
throw  up. 

He  picked  her  up  in  his  arms,  ran  down 
the  steps  with  her,  and  into  the  open  street. 
The  ladies  in  the  house  .all  came  out  to  us, 
offering  help  and  sympathy,  and  with  us  got 
Millie  into  the  parlor,  where  we  laid  her  on 
a  lounge,  and  where  two  physicians  worked 
over  her  for  hours  before  they  were  sure  she 
would  recover  entirely  from  the  attack. 
They  said  it  was  heart  failure.  That  evening 
we  carried  her  on  a  stretcher  to  the  Spots- 
wood  Hotel.  She  was  ill  for  two  weeks. 
Then  Bobby  was  ill  for  five.  Our  funds  ran 
out.  What  moneys  we  had  were  in  the 
Yankee  lines  and  inaccessible,  and  Millie  de- 
termined to  put  her  education  and  accom- 
plishments to  use.  She  set  herself  to  work 
to  find  something  to  do,  and  a  lady  from 
Staunton  who  happened  to  meet  us  at  this 
time,  learning  that  she  wanted  work,  offered 
her  a  position  in  a  young  ladies'  school.  So 
Millie  and  little  Bobby  went  to  Staunton. 


3H 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

BY   THE    SKIN    OF    OUR:  TEETH 

Not  long  after  they  left,  mother  and  I 
came  in  from  a  round  of  calls  one  day  to  find 
a  telegram  awaiting  me  : 

"  Dan  wounded,  but  not  dangerously. 
Come. 

"  Gus." 

I  hurried  into  my  room  and  changed  my 
dress — to  be  careful  of  wearing  apparel  had 
become  a  pressing  necessity — while  mother 
went  out  to  see  about  trains.  We  found 
there  was  no  Petersburg  train  till  next 
day;  there  might  be  one  at  seven  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  was  up  at  daybreak,  got  a  cup  of  tea 
and  a  biscuit,  looked  at  mother  as  she  lay 
asleep,  and  with  my  satchel  and  little  lunch 
basket  in  my  hand  went  to  the  depot.  There 
were  crowds  of  soldiers  there  and  a  train 
315 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

about  to  start,  but  no  woman  was  to  go  on 
it — it  was  for  soldiers  only.  I  went  from  one 
person  who  seemed  to  be  in  authority  to  an- 
other, seeking  permission  to  go,  but  received 
the  same  answer  everywhere — only  soldiers 
were  allowed  on  the  train. 

"  But,"  I  said  at  last,  "  I  am  an  officer's 
wife,  and  he  is  wounded."  I  broke  down 
with  the  words,  and  in  spite  of  my  efforts  to 
keep  them  back  my  eyes  filled  with  tears.  It 
was  what  I  should  have  done  in  the  begin- 
ning. I  at  once  got  permission.  I  went  into 
the  car,  took  my  seat  at  the  extreme  end  and 
shrunk  into  the  smallest  space  possible.  The 
car  was  packed  with  soldiers  and  I  was  the 
only  woman  on  board.  When  we  were  about 
half-way  a  young  lieutenant  who  occupied 
part  of  the  seat  in  front  of  me  said: 

"  Madam,  if  I  can  be  of  any  assistance  to 
you,  please  command  me.  I  suppose  you 
know  that  our  train  stops  within  three  miles 
of  Petersburg." 

"  I  did  not  know,"  I  said,  "  and  I  do  not 
know  what  to  expect,  or  what  I  shall  do,  or 
where  I  shall  find  my  husband,  although  I 
suppose  I  shall  be  met." 
316 


By  the  Skin  of  Our  Teeth 

"  If  not,"  he  said,  "  I  am  at  your  service." 

No  one  was  waiting  for  me  at  the  depot; 
but  the  lieutenant  secured  an  ambulance,  got 
in  it  with  me,  and  directed  the  driver  to  take 
us  to  Petersburg.  We  soon  met  Gus,  Dan's 
cousin,  coming  to  meet  me  in  a  buggy. 
While  I  was  getting  out  of  the  ambulance 
into  the  buggy  I  was  plying  Gus  with  ques- 
tions about  Dan.  "  Dan  is  at  our  house," 
Gus  told  me.  "  His  wound  is  a  very  ugly 
one,  but  the  doctors  say  that  he'll  get  well. 
At  first  we  thought  he  wouldn't.  He  is  shot 
through  the  thigh,  and  will  be  laid  up  for 
some  time — that's  what  he's  kicking  about 
now." 

Our  most  direct  route  to  Mansfield, 
where  Dan  was,  lay  through  Petersburg,  but 
we  could  not  follow  that  route.  The 
Yankees  were  everywhere  about  the  city,  Gus 
said,  so  we  went  through  the  outer  edge  of 
Ettricks,  skirting  the  city  proper.  When  we 
reached  Mansfield  my  husband  on  crutches 
met  me  at  the  door.  He  looked  pale  and 
weak,  but  he  was  very  cheery  and  tried  to 
joke. 

"  He  ought  not  to  have  got  up,  Nell," 
317 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

whispered  Grandmamma  Grey.  "  He  thought 
it  would  shock  you  to  find  him  in  bed — that 
is  why  he  got  up." 

Of  course  I  immediately  put  him  under 
orders.  He  returned  to  bed  meekly  enough, 
and  from  that  time  I  did  all  I  could,  and  it 
was  all  I  could  do,  to  keep  him  still  until  his 
wound  healed.  We  read  and  sang  and  played 
on  the  banjo  and  had  a  good  time.  But  as 
soon  as  he  was  able  to  hobble  he  would  go 
to  camp  every  day  and  sit  around.  General 
Lee's  headquarters  were  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  from  our  house.  Colonel  Taylor  and  a 
number  of  old  friends  were  there,  and  Dan 
could  talk  fight  if  he  couldn't  fight.  At  last 
he  insisted  that  he  was  ready  to  join  his  divi- 
sion, and  we  set  out  to  reach  it  in  an  am- 
bulance drawn  by  three  mules. 

When  we  came  to  Hatchers  Run  we 
found  that  creek  very  much  swollen  and  the 
bridge  not  visible,  but  there  were  fresh  tracks 
showing  where  a  wagon  had  lately  gone  over. 

"  That  shows  well  enough  where  the  bridge 

is,"  said  Dan,  pointing  to  where  the  wagon 

had  left  a  track  close  to  the  water's  edge  and 

visible   for   a   short    way    under   the    water. 

3i8 


By  the  Skin  of  Our  Teeth 

"  Follow  that  track,"  he  commanded  our 
driver,  who  was  three-quarters  of  a  man,  be- 
ing too  young  for  a  whole  man  and  too  old 
for  a  lad,  "  the  mules  will  find  the  bridge. 
They  are  the  most  sure-footed  animals  in  the 
world.  Just  let  them  have  their  heads  as  soon 
as  they  get  in  the  water." 

Jerry  obeyed  instructions.  Sure  enough, 
the  mules  got  along  well  enough.  That  is, 
for  a  short  distance.  Then,  splash!  down 
they  went  under  the  water!  We  could  just 
see  their  noses  and  their  great  ears  wiggling 
above  the  surface  as  they  struck  out  into  a 
gallant  swim  for  the  opposite  shore.  Splash! 
we  went  in  after  them,  and  mules  and  am- 
bulance were  swimming  and  floating  to- 
gether. Jerry  was  terrified,  and  began  to 
pray  so  hard  that  I  got  to  laughing.  All  we 
could  see  of  the  mules  were  six  ears  sticking 
out  of  the  water  and  wiggling  for  dear  life, 
while  our  ambulance  swam  along  like  a 
gondola. 

But  things  changed  suddenly.  Our  am- 
bulance was  lifted  slightly,  came  down  with  a 
jolt,  and  wouldn't. budge!  The  mules  strained 
forward,  but  to  no  good.  The  ambulance 
319 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

wouldn't  stir,  and  their  harness  held  them 
back. 

"  The  ambulance  has  caught  on  some 
part  of  the  bridge,"  said  Dan. 

We  were  in  a  serious  dilemma.  The  road 
was  one  in  much  use,  and  we  pinned  our 
hopes  to  some  passer-by,  but  as  we  waited 
minutes  seemed  hours.  No  one  came.  Per- 
haps the  wagon  that  had  preceded  us  had 
given  warning  that  the  bridge  was  wrecked. 
We  sat  in  the  ambulance  and  waited,  not 
knowing  what  to  do,  not  seeing  what  we 
could  do.  By  some  saplings  which  stood  in 
the  water  we  measured  the  rise  of  the  tide, 
and  we  measured  its  rise  in  the  ambulance  by 
my  trunk — I  was  getting  wet  to  my  knees. 
Finally  I  sat  on  top  of  my  trunk  and  drew 
my  feet  up  after  me.  The  situation  was 
serious  enough,  and  Dan  began  to  look  very 
anxious — Hatchers  Run  was  always  regarded 
as  a  dangerous  stream  in  flood  time.  Still, 
no  sign  of  any  one  coming.  The  rain  con- 
tinued to  fall  and  the  water  to  rise. 

"  At  this  rate  we  are  sitting  here  to 
drown,"  Dan  said.  "  There's  but  one  way 
out  of  it  that  I  can  see.  From  what  I  know 
320 


By  the  Skin  of  Our  Teeth 

of  the  situation  of  our  army  there  must  be  an 
encampment  near  here.  Jerry,  climb  out  of 
this  ambulance  over  the  backs  of  these  hind 
mules  till  you  get  to  that  leader.  Get  on 
him,  cut  him  loose,  and  swim  out  of  this. 
Ride  until  you  find  an  encampment  and  bring 
us  help." 

But  Jerry  didn't  look  at  it  that  way. 

"  I'm  skeered  ter  fool  'long  dat  ar  mule.  I 
ain't  nuvver  fooled  'long  er  mule  in  de  water. 
I  kaint  have  no  notion  of  de  way  he  mought 
do  wid  me.  You  kaint  'pend  on  mules,  Mars 
Dan,  ter  do  jes  lak  you  want  'em  ter  on  dry 
land,  much  less  in  de  water.  Arter  I  git  out 
dar,  cut  dat  ar  mule  loose,  an'  git  on  him,  he 
mought  take  out  an'  kyar  me  somewhar  I 
didn't  wanter  go.  I  mought  nuvver  git  ter 
no  camp,  nor  nowhar,  Mars  Dan,  ef  I  go  ter 
foolin'  'long  er  dat  mule  out  dar  in  de  water." 

The  major  caught  his  shoulders,  and 
turned  his  face  to  the  stream.  "  Have  you 
watched  that  water  rising  out  there  for  noth- 
ing? "  he  asked  sternly.  "  We  are  sure  to  be 
drowned  if  you  don't  do  as  I  tell  you — all 
of  us." 

Between  certain  death  and  uncertain 
321 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

death  Jerry  chose  the  latter,  crawled  over  the 
hind  mules,  got  on  the  leader  and  rode  him 
off.    He  took  this  note  with  him:- 

"  Nearest  Encampment  of  any  Division, 
C.  S.  A.: 
"  I  am  in  the  middle  of  Hatchers  Run 
in  an  ambulance  with  my  wife.  The  stream 
is  rising  rapidly  and  ambulance  filling  with 
water.     Send  immediate  relief. 

"  Daniel  V.  Grey, 
"Adjutant  of  the  Thirteenth" 

After  the  boy  was  gone  there  we  sat  and 
waited  while  the  water  rose.  I  got  very  cold 
and  Dan,  who  was  yet  weak  from  his  wound 
and  confinement,  got  chilled  and  stiff.  After 
more  than  an  hour  of  waiting  we  heard  from 
the  woods  on  the  other  side  a  noise  as  of  men 
running,  and  then  there  came  rushing  out  of 
the  woods  toward  us  thirteen  men  of  mighty 
girth  and  stature.  They  were  Georgia  moun- 
taineers who  had  been  sent  to  our  rescue. 
When  they  came  to  the  water  they  didn't  like 
the  look  and  feel  of  it,  and  evidently  didn't 
want  to  get  in  it. 

322 


By  the  Skin  of  Our  Teeth 

"  What  is  we  uns  to  do?"  they  called  across. 

"  Something  to  get  us  out  of  this,"  Dan 
hallooed  back,  "  and  be  quick  about  it,  or  we 
shall  drown." 

"  How  is  we  uns  to  git  to  you  uns?  " 

"  Get  in  the  water  and  swim  here." 

They  talked  among  themselves,  but  none 
of  them  seemed  disposed  to  do  this. 

"  Men!  "  called  my  husband,  "  I  am  hardly 
well  of  a  wound,  I  am  stiff  and  weak.  I  can 
not  save  my  wife,  who  is  up  to  the  waist  in 
water.  Will  you  stand  there  and  see  a 
woman  drown?  " 

They  seemed  ashamed,  but  none  of  them 
made  the  move  to  go  in.  Then  the  largest  of 
them  all — he  seemed  a  mighty  giant- 
stepped  forth  and  took  command. 

"  You  say  thar's  a  lady  in  that  am- 
bulance? " 

"  Yes,  my  wife." 

"Wall,  I'm  blowed!  An'  she  ain't  a-hol- 
lerin'  and  a-cryin'?  " 

"  Do  you  hear  her?  "  asked  Dan  irritably. 
"  She's  braver  than  some  men  I  know.     But 
you  can  count  on  it  that  she  is  wet  and  cold. 
We  are  nearly  frozen!  " 
323 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"Wall,  I'm  blowed!  An'  she's  right 
out  thar  in  the  middle  er  that  run,  an' 
she  ain't  a-hollerin'  and  a-cryin'!  Tell  you 
uns  what  I'll  do.  I'll  swim  out  there  and 
bring  her  back  on  my  back.  An'  then 
I'll  swim  back  agin  an'  bring  you  on  my 
back." 

"  I  can't!  "  I  said.  "  I'm  cold  enough  to 
die  now,  and  I  can't  get  in  that  water.  I'll 
die  if  I  do." 

The  giant  gave  orders.  The  men  hung 
back.  Then  we  heard  him  roaring  like  a  bull 
of  Bashan. 

"  Git  into  that  ar  water,  evvy  man  of  you 
uns,  an'  swim  fur  that  ar  ambulance!  I  was 
put  in  comman'  er  this  here  expuddition,  an* 
I  means  ter  comman'  it.  'Bey  orders,  you 
uns  is  got  ter,  or  you  uns  '11  git  reported  to 
headquarters  ez  I'm  a  sinner.  Git  in  that 
thar  water.    Furrard!    Swim! " 

How  well  I  remember  the  great,  good- 
natured  giant  as  he  swam  around  our  am- 
bulance, bobbing  up  and  down,  and  taking 
in  our  bearings  ! 

"  You  see,  cap,"  he  said,  "  all  the  bridge 
is  washed  away  but  the  sleepers,  an'  that's 
324 


By  the  Skin  of  Our  Teeth 

what  you  uns  is  hung  on.  Unhitch  them 
mules,"  to  some  of  his  men. 

"  Now,  cap,  soon's  them  mules  is  loose 
we  uns  '11  lif  the  ambulance  off  er  this,  an' 
pull  you  uns  to  shore.  Jes  you  uns  make 
yourse'fs  easy,  and  we  uns  '11  git  you  uns  out 
er  this." 

The  mules  unhitched  were  led  to  shore, 
and  then  the  men  pulled  the  ambulance 
safely  to  land.  I  don't  remember  what  be- 
came of  the  thirteen  mighty  men.  Nor  do  I 
recall  clearly  the  rest  of  that  cold  ride  when 
I  shivered  in  my  clothes,  but  I  remember  get- 
ting to  a  house  where  I  was  seated  in  a  great 
chair  close  to  a  blazing  fire  of  hickory  logs, 
and  I  remember  that  when  I  went  to  get  out 
my  night-dress  I  found  all  the  clothes  in  my 
trunk  wet,  and  that  when  I  went  to  bed  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  going  to  be  ill,  and  that  I 
rested  badly.  But  the  next  morning  I  was 
up  and  on  my  way  again.  Again  we  came  to 
a  swollen  stream.  This  time  we  could  see  the 
bridge,  and  it  wobbled  about.  Dan  thought  it 
was  safe  to  drive  over.  But  not  I !  Just  then 
some  gentlemen  came  up  behind  us  and  in- 
sisted that  I  was  right.  So  I  got  out  of  the 
325 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

ambulance  and  was  helped  across  on  some 
logs  or  beams  or  something  which  stretched 
across  the  stream  underneath  the  bridge,  and 
may  have  been  a  part  of  it,  but  whatever  they 
were  I  thought  them  more  secure  than  an 
ambulance  and  mules  and  an  uncertain 
bridge.  I  made  Dan  cross  this  way,  too, 
though  he  said  it  wasn't  best  for  his  leg,  and 
made  all  sorts  of  complaints  about  it.  The 
ambulance  was  obliged  to  cross  on  the 
bridge,  and  the  devoted  Jerry  drove  it,  quar- 
reling and  complaining  and  praying  all  the 
way.  We  had  not  gone  much  farther  before, 
lo!  here  was  Stony  Creek,  swollen  to  burst- 
ing, rushing  and  furious,  and  again  a  hidden 
bridge. 

"  I  nuvver  seed  so  much  high  water  befo' 
in  all  my  life,"  said  Jerry,  thoroughly  dis- 
gusted, "  nor  so  dang'ous.  Water  behin'  an' 
befo'.    We  all  is  in  a  bad  way." 

There  was  a  wagoner  on  the  bank  who 
said  the  bridge  was  all  right  and  but  slightly 
under  water.  I  protested,  but  Dan  made 
Jerry  drive  in.  I  wanted  to  turn  back.  But 
Dan  argued  that  there  was  as  bad  behind  us, 
and  that  he  must  get  to  camp  by  the  time  he 
326 


By  the  Skin  of  Our  Teeth 

was  due,  and  after  a  little  the  mules  found 
their  footing  and  kept  it,  though  the  water 
swished  and  whirled  over  the  bridge.  We 
saw  a  man  and  a  horse  swept  down  the 
stream — I  thought  they  might  have  been 
swept  by  the  current  off  the  very  bridge  we 
were  crossing.  The  current  was  too  strong 
for  the  horse;  he  could  do  nothing  against  it, 
and  had  given  up.  As  they  passed  under  a 
tree  the  man  reached  up,  caught  a  sweeping 
branch  and  swung  himself  up  in  the  tree;  the 
horse  was  drowned  before  our  eyes  before  we 
got  across  the  bridge. 

We  left  the  man  in  the  tree,  but  promised 
to  send  him  help.  There  was  a  house  two 
miles  from  the  creek,  and  to  this  we  drove. 
It  was  full  of  people;  the  parlor  was  full,  the 
halls  were  full,  and  the  kitchen  and  the  bed- 
rooms were  full  of  men,  women,  and  children. 
It  reminded  me  of  a  country  funeral  where 
people  are  piled  up  in  the  halls,  on  the 
steps,  and  everywhere  a  person  can  stand  or 
sit.  Soldiers  were  always  passing  to  and  fro 
in  those  days  and  stopping  for  the  night  at 
any  convenient  wayside  place,  and  as  for  not 

taking  a  soldier  in — well,  public  opinion  made 
22  327 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

it  hot  for  the  man  who  would  not  shelter  a 
wayfaring  soldier  and  share  the  last  crust 
with  him.  The  house  held  a  large  number 
of  soldiers  that  night,  and  in  addition  a  water- 
bound  wedding-party.  On  this  side  the  creek 
was  the  groom;  on  the  other  side  the  bride. 
The  groom  had  on  his  good  clothes — good 
clothes  were  a  rarity  then— but  he  looked 
most  woebegone. 

We  told  the  people  in  the  house  about 
the  man  in  the  tree;  and  every  man  in  the 
house  went  down  to  see  about  him. 

They  called  out  to  him  saying  they  would 
throw  him  ropes  and  pull  him  in,  but  when 
they  tried  to  throw  the  ropes  out  to  him 
they  found  that  he  could  not  be  reached  in 
that  way.  The  tree  was  too  far  from  the 
shore.  It  was  after  midnight  when  they 
gave  up  trying  to  reach  him  with  ropes. 
Then  they  told  him  to  keep  his  courage  up 
till  morning,  and  they  made  a  great  bonfire 
on  the  banks,  and  some  of  them  stood  by  it 
and  talked  to  him  all  night.  First  one  party 
and  then  another  would  go  out  and  stand 
by  the  bonfire,  and  keep  it  up,  and  talk  to 
him.  The  relieved  party  would  come  to  the 
328 


By  the  Skin  of  Our  Teeth 

house  and  warm  themselves  and  go  back 
again.  Nobody  slept  that  night.  There  was 
nowhere  for  anybody  to  lie  down.  When 
morning  came  the  creek  had  fallen  and  they 
pulled  the  nearly  frozen  man  to  land. 

The  next  day  found  us  at  our  destina- 
tion, Hicksford. 


329 


CHAPTER    XXV 

THE   BEGINNING   OF   THE    END 

While  I  was  at  Hicksford  I  stayed  at 
General  Chambliss's.  I  was  very  happy 
there.  Dan's  camp  was  not  far  off,  and  he 
came  to  see  me  very  often  and  every  morning 
sent  his  horses  to  me.  In  my  rides  I  used  fre- 
quently to  take  the  general's  little  son,  Willie, 
along  as  my  escort,  and  one  morning,  when 
several  miles  distant  from  home  and  with  our 
horses'  heads  turned  homeward,  who  should 
ride  out  from  a  bend  in  the  road  and  come 
toward  us  but  two  full-fledged  Yankees  in 
blue  uniform  and  armed  to  the  teeth.  My 
heart  went  down  into  the  bottom  of  my 
horse's  heels,  and  I  suppose  Willie's  heart  be- 
haved the  same  way.  We  did  not  speak,  we 
hardly  breathed,  and  we  were  careful  not  to 
quicken  our  pace  as  we  and  our  enemies  drew 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  passed  in  that  lonely 
road  a  yard  between  our  horses  and  theirs. 
330 


The  Beginning  of  the  End 

We  did  not  turn  back;  we  crept  along  the 
road  to  the  bend,  until  our  horses'  tails  got 
well  around  the  bend.  Then  Willie  and  I 
gave  each  other  a  look,  and  took  out  at  a 
wild  run  for  home.  We  went  straight  as  ar- 
rows, and  over  everything  in  our  way.  I  had 
all  I  could  do  that  day  to  stick  on  Nellie 
Grey,  who  went  as  if  she  knew  Yankees  were 
behind — only  in  her  mind  it  must  have  been 
the  whole  of  Grant's  army.  Dan  laughed  our 
."  narrow  escape  "  to  scorn,  and  said  the  two 
Yankees  were  probably  Confederates  in  good 
Yankee  clothes  they  had  confiscated.  At 
this  time  Confederates  would  put  on  any- 
thing they  found  to  wear,  from  a  woman's 
petticoat  to  a  Yankee  uniform,  but  Dan 
never  could  convince  us  that  those  two  Yan- 
kees were  not  Yankees. 

After  this  I  rebelled  less  against  going 
out,  as  I  sometimes  had  to  do,  in  "  Miss 
Sally's  kerridge."  This  was  an  old  family 
carriage,  a  great  coach  of  state  with  the 
driver's  perch  very  high.  The  driver,  an  old 
family  negro  as  venerable  and  shaky  in  ap- 
pearance as  the  carriage,  attached  due  im- 
portance to  his  office.  He  thought  no  piece 
331 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

of  furniture  on  the  place  of  such  value  as 
"  Miss  Sally's  kerridge."  He  cared  for  the 
horses  as  if  they  had  been  babies.  This 
part  of  the  country  had  not  been  so  heavily 
taxed  as  some  others  in  the  support  of  the 
two  armies,  and  a  little  more  corn  than  was 
usual  could  be  had.  Uncle  Rube  was  sure 
that  his  horses  got  the  best  of  what  was  go- 
ing, and  also  that  everything  a  currycomb 
could  do  for  them  was  theirs.  He  himself 
when  prepared  for  his  post  as  charioteer  wore 
a  suit  of  clothes  which  must  have  been  in  the 
Chambliss  family  for  several  generations, 
and  an  old  beaver  hat,  honorable  with  age 
and  illustrious  usage.  When  we  were  taken 
abroad  in  "  Miss  Sally's  kerridge,"  we  were 
always  duly  impressed  by  Uncle  Rube  with  the 
honor  done  us.  On  the  occasion  of  a  grand 
review  which  took  place  not  far  from  General 
Chambliss's  residence,  I,  with  three  other 
ladies,  went  in  the  "  kerridge."  The  roads 
were  awful — in  those  days  roads  were  always 
awful.  Troops  were  traveling  backward  and 
forward,  artillery  was  being  dragged  over 
them,  heavy  wagons  were  cutting  ruts,  and 
there  always  seemed  to  be  so  much  rain. 
332 


The  Beginning  of  the  End 

Uncle  Rube  quarreled  all  the  way  going 
and  coming.  He  sat  on  his  high  perch,  and 
guided  his  horses  carefully  along,  picking  the 
best  places  in  the  road  for  "  Miss  Sally's  ker- 
ridge," and  talking  at  us. 

"  It's  jes  gwine  to  ruin  Miss  Sally's  ker- 
ridge  takin'  it  out  on  sech  roads  as  dese  hyer. 
.  .  .  Nuf  to  ruin  er  ox-kyart,  dese  hyer  roads 
is,  much  mo'  er  fin'  kerridge.  .  .  .  Well,  'tain' 
no  use  fur  me  ter  say  nothin'.  .  .  .  Jest  well 
keep  my  mouf  shut.  .  .  .  Monstratin'  don'  do 
er  bit  er  good.  .  .  .  When  dey  git  it  in  dar 
haids  dey's  gwine,  dey's  gwine,  don't  kyeer 
what  happens.  .  .  .  Ain't  gwine  heah  nothin', 
dey  ain't,  not  ontwell  dey  gits  Miss  Sally's 
kerridge  broke  up.  .  .  .  I  say  folks  orter  go 
ter  ride  when  de  roads  is  good,  and  stay  at 
home  when  de  roads  is  bad.  .  .  .  An'  lemme 
take  kyeer  uv  de  kerridge." 

With  these  intermittent  mutterings  and 
frank  expressions  of  displeasure  Uncle  Rube 
entertained  us  until  we  got  to  the  review 
stand. 

To  crown  his  disgust  we  were  late  in 
starting  back  home,  and  at  dark  he  was  lean- 
ing forward  from  his  lofty  altitude,  peering 
333 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

into  the  road  ahead  and  seeking  vainly  "  de 
bes'  place  ter  drive  Miss  Sally's  kerridge 
along."  He  said  "  dar  warn't  no  bes'  place," 
and  was  in  despair  of  ever  getting  that  valu- 
able vehicle  home  in  safety.  At  last  the 
crash  came!  Down  went  one  carriage  wheel 
into  a  mud-hole !  It  stuck  there,  and  we  were 
rooted  for  the  time  being.  However,  I  think 
Uncle  Rube  would  have  got  us  out  but  for 
some  untimely  assistance.  Bob  Lee,  the  young- 
est of  the  Lees,  and  Bob  Mason  (the  son 
of  the  ex-United  States  Minister  to  France, 
whose  home  was  near  General  Chambliss's) 
came  riding  by.  They  stopped  and  shook 
hands  with  us  through  the  carriage  window, 
and  asserted  their  gallant  intention  of  getting 
us  out  of  our  mud-hole.  They  tried  to  lead 
the  horses  forward,  to  pull  and  push  "  the 
kerridge  "  out,  but  in  vain.  Then  Bob,  to 
Uncle  Rube's  utter  amazement  and  indigna- 
tion, made  him  get  down,  while  he,  Bob, 
mounted  the  box.  Uncle  Rube  stood  on  the 
roadside,  the  picture  of  chagrin  and  despair. 

"  Dar  ain't  no  tellin'  what's  gwi'  happen 
now!  "  he  exclaimed.    "  Mars  Bob  don'  know 
how  ter  manage  dem  horses  no  mo'n  nothin'. 
334 


The  Beginning  of  the  End 

Don',  Mars  Bob!  Mars  Bob!  don'  whoop  'em! 
Law-aw-dy! " 

Bob  had  gathered  the  lines  in  one  hand 
and  with  the  other  was  laying  the  whip  on 
Rube's  pets.  The  horses,  utterly  unused  to 
the  whip,  plunged  like  mad.  There  was  an 
ominous  sound! — our  axle  was  broken,  and 
we  were  helplessly  stuck  in  the  mud. 

"  Dar  now!"  wailed  Uncle  Rube. 
"  What  I  tole  you?  I  said  Miss  Sally's  ker- 
ridge  gwi'  git  ruint!  and  now  it's  done  been 
did.  It's  clean  ruint,  Miss  Sally's  kerridge  is. 
I  tole  Mars  Bob  dem  horses  don't  know  noth- 
in'  'bout  a  whoop.  Dey  ain't  nuvver  bin 
'quainted  wid  er  whoop.  I  bin  er-sayin'  an' 
er-sayin'  all  erlong  dat  de  kerridge  gwi'  git 
broke,  an'  it's  done  been  did.    O  Lawdy!  " 

Our  young  rescuers  borrowed  a  cart  from 
a  farmer  near  by  and  got  us  home  in  it.  I 
have  forgotten  how  Uncle  Rube  managed,  if 
I  ever  knew.  But  I  shall  never  forget  the 
scene  when  several  hours  later  we  all  sat 
around  the  fire  in  the  sitting-room,  chatting 
over  our  adventures,  and  Uncle  Rube,  hat  in 
hand,  came  to  the  door  and  made  report  to 
his  mistress  of  the  family  misfortune.  His 
335 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

eyes  were  big  as  saucers.  He  laid  the  blame 
thick  and  heavy  on  "  Mars  Bob's  "  shoulders, 
exonerating  his  horses  with  great  care. 

"  Dey's  sensubble  horses  ef  anybody  jes 
got  de  sense  ter  manage  'em,  dey  is." 

And  then  Miss  Sally,  in  spite  of  her 
efforts  to  preserve  a  gravity  befitting  the 
calamity,  broke  down  like  the  "  kerridge " 
and  laughed  hysterically. 

There  was  plenty  to  eat  at  General 
Chambliss's.  I  always  remember  that  fact 
when  it  was  a  fact,  because  it  was  beginning 
to  be  so  pleasant  and  unusual  to  have  enough 
to  eat.  Hicksford  hadn't  been  raided,  and 
there  were  still  chickens  on  the  roost,  bees  in 
the  hive,  turkeys  up  the  trees,  partridges  in 
the  woods,  and  corn  in  the  barns.  The  barn, 
by  the  way,  was  new,  and  the  soldiers  gave 
a  ball  in  it.  We  all  went  and  had  a  most  de-* 
lightful  evening.  I  well  remember  that  I 
went  in  "  Miss  Sally's  kerridge,"  and  that 
General  Rooney  Lee  and  I  led  off  the  ball 
together.  I  remember,  too,  that  we  had  a 
fine  supper:  turkeys,  chicken-salad,  barbe- 
cued mutton,  roast  pig  with  an  apple  in  his 
mouth,  pound-cake,  silver-cake,  cheese-cake 
336 


The  Beginning  of  the  End 

or  transparent  pudding,  "  floating  island  "  or 
"  tipsy  squire  " ;  plenty  of  bread,  milk,  sure- 
enough  coffee — everything  and  enough  of  it. 
We  danced  till  morning  and  leaving  our  gal- 
lant entertainers  in  the  gray  dawn,  went  off 
to  sleep  nearly  all  day. 

The  next  ball  was  in  an  old  farmhouse 
where  some  of  our  cavalry  were  quartered.  We 
had  another  good  supper — everything  good  to 
eat  and  plenty  of  it — like  the  first.  There 
were  no  chairs  or  furniture  of  any  kind,  as  I 
remember,  but  there  were  benches  ranged 
around  the  barn  for  us  to  sit  on  when  resting 
during  the  pauses  of  the  dance.  After  a 
dance  with  him  General  Rooney  Lee  led  me 
back  to  the  room  where  the  banquet  was 
spread  to  taste  something  especially  nice 
which  he  liked  and  which  I  had  not  touched 
— eating  a  good  thing  when  you  could  get  it 
was  a  delightful  and  serious  duty  in  those 
days.  There  was  quite  a  circle  around  us, 
and  we  were  all  nibbling,  laughing,  chatting 
away  as  if  there  were  no  such  things  as  war 
and  death  in  the  land,  when  a  courier  in 
muddy  boots  strode  across  the  room  to  the 
general,  saluted,  spoke  a  few  words,  and  the 
337 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

general  walked  aside  with  him.  The  music 
was  enticing,  and  while  the  general  was  en- 
gaged with  the  courier  I  went  back  with 
some  one  else  to  the  ballroom  and  took  my 
place  in  the  lancers.  We  were  clasping  hands 
and  bowing  ourselves  through  the  grand 
chain  when  the  dance  was  interrupted.  The 
army  was  to  march. 

There  was  great  confusion,  hurried  hand- 
shaking, sometimes  no  hand-shaking  at  all, 
no  time  for  good-bys.  The  soldiers  could  not 
stand  on  the  order  of  their  going.  I  do  not 
remember  how  I  came  to  the  farmhouse,  but 
I  know  that  my  husband  bundled  me  uncere- 
moniously into  a  cart  with  some  people  I 
I  hardly  knew,  and  sent  me  home,  telling  me 
to  pack  my  trunk  but  not  to  be  disappointed 
if  he  could  not  take  me  with  him.  I  did  not 
lie  down  at  all.  I  packed  my  trunk  as  soon 
as  I  got  home,  then  sat  down  and  waited, 
and  before  long  my  husband  came  for  me  in 
an  ambulance.  His  courier,  Lieutenant 
Wumble,  was  with  him,  and  the  ambulance 
was  driven  by  an  Irishman  named  Miles. 
The  horses  were  tied  to  the  back  of  the  am- 
bulance, and  frequently  my  husband  and 
338 


The  Beginning  of  the  End 

Lieutenant  Wumble  rode  ahead  reconnoi- 
tering.  It  began  to  rain.  "  What  made  you 
always  start  in  the  rain?  "  I  have  been  asked 
by  friends  to  whom  I  was  relating  my  cam- 
paigns. What  I  want  to  know  is,  what  made 
it  always  rain  when  I  started?  Let  me  but 
step  into  an  ambulance  and  immediately  it 
began  to  rain.  My  movements  had  to  be 
regulated  by  the  movements  of  the  army,  not 
by  the  weather,  though  really  the  weather 
seemed  to  regulate  itself  by  mine. 

We  found  the  roads  worse  as  we  ad- 
vanced. The  farther  we  went  the  deeper 
was  the  mud.  Mud  came  up  to  the  hubs  of 
our  wheels;  the  mules  could  hardly  pull  their 
feet  up  out  of  the  miry  mass  in  some  places. 
At  last  we  found  ourselves  regularly  "  stuck 
in  the  mud."  There  was  no  pushing  or  pull- 
ing the  ambulance  farther.  It  was  nearly 
dark,  but  fortunately  we  were  near  a  farm- 
house, and  at  the  side  of  the  road  where  we 
got  stuck  was  a  stile  made  by  blocks  of  un- 
equal heights  set  on  either  side  of  a  plank 
fence.  These  blocks  were  simply  sections  of 
the  round  body  of  a  tree  which  had  been 
sawed  up.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  stile  a 
339 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

pathway  led  to  the  house.  The  mud-hole  in 
which  our  ambulance  was  embedded  was 
about  ten  yards  from  the  stile.  My  husband 
insisted  that  I  be  carried  bodily  to  the  stile, 
and  Lieutenant  Wumble,  who  was  one  of 
the  most  gallant  fellows  in  the  world,  took 
it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  he  must  carry 
me.  He  urged  that  he  had  been  brought 
along  to  be  useful  and  that  Dan  had  never  re- 
covered entirely  from  his  wound.  But  Dan 
hooted  at  the  idea!  He  was  very  much  ob- 
liged to  the  lieutenant,  but  really  he  was 
used  to  this  sort  of  thing,  and  understood 
lifting  ladies  about  much  better  than  Wum- 
ble. It  was  not  altogether  brute  strength, 
but  some  science  that  was  required.  So  Dan 
stepped  out  of  the  ambulance  on  to  the 
side  of  the  mud-hole,  where  of  course  the 
ground  was  not  so  muddy  as  in  the  center 
where  we  were  stuck,  but  where  it  was 
rather  slippery,  nevertheless.  Balancing  him- 
self nicely,  he  took  me  out,  but  just  as  he 
poised  me  on  his  arm  with  scientific  ease  and 
grace  he  slipped  and  fell  backward,  sprawling 
in  the  mud,  and  I  went  over  his  head,  sprawl- 
ing, too. 

340 


The  Beginning  of  the  End 

Whereupon  Lieutenant  Wumble,  laugh- 
ing, came  to  pick  me  up,  saying  as  he  did  so: 

"  I  told  you  that  you  ought  to  let  me 
carry  you.  Just  lie  there,  major,  and  I'll 
come  back  for  you  as  soon  as  I  set  your 
wife  down.  Keep  quiet,  major,"  as  Dan 
swore  at  the  mud  and  slipped  again,  "  and 
I'll  pick  you  up  and  get  you  along  all  right." 

As  Dan  dragged  himself  up  he  was  a  per- 
fect mud  man,  and  he  had  left  the  print  of 
himself  in  the  mud  behind  him.  They  took 
us  in  at  the  farmhouse,  and  sent  men  to  help 
the  driver  prize  the  ambulance  out  of  the 
hole.  They  scraped  the  mud  off  me,  and  a 
colored  woman  washed  my  clothes  and  hung 
them  by  the  fire,  so  they  might  be  dry  by 
morning.  Of  course,  this  process  put  me  in 
bed  at  once.  Our  supper  was  poor  and  the 
bed  uncomfortable,  but  it  was  the  best  our 
hosts  could  do. 

After  an  uncomfortable  night  we  started 
off  again  toward  Dinwiddie  Court-house, 
which  was  to  be  our  next  stopping-place.  As 
we  journeyed  on  we  knew  that  we  were  get- 
ting into  most  dangerous  quarters.  The 
nearer  we  drew  to  Petersburg  the  nearer  we 
341 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

were  to  the  tangle  of  Federal  and  Confed- 
erate lines;  the  nearer  to  skirmishers  and 
scouts  from  both  armies.  The  night  got 
blacker  and  blacker — you  could  not  see  your 
hand  before  you — and  the  blacker  it  grew 
the  more  frightened  old  Miles  became.  Out 
of  the  darkness  where,  invisible,  he  sat  astride 
the  invisible  mule  he  drove,  he  poured  an 
unceasing  stream  of  complaint. 

"  Arrah!  the  divil  a  bit  can  Oi  see  where 
Oi'm  goin'.  It's  so  dark  ye  couldn't  see  a 
light  if  there  was  any.  The  mules,  intilligint 
crathurs  they  are,  maybe  they  know  where 
they  be  goin'.  It's  more  than  the  loikes  of 
me  does.  But  what  Oi've  got  agin  a  mule  is 
that  they  don't  know  an  honest  Amerikin  in 
gray  clothes — or  mixed  rags  it  is  now — from 
a  nasty,  thavin'  Yankee." 

If  we  were  "silent  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
Miles  spoke  out  for  company's  sake,  or 
asked  unnecessary  questions  perhaps  to  find 
out  if  we  were  there,  and  that  the  Yankees 
hadn't  spirited  us  away. 

"  These  woods  are  full  of  Yankees,"  he 
said.  "  It's  chock-full  of  them,  it  is.  An' 
it's  so  dark,  it  is,  they  could  just  come  out 
342 


The  Beginning  of  the  End 

here  an'  kill  us  all,  they  could,  an'  we'd  never 
know  it." 

"Shut  your  mouth  up,  you  fool!"  said 
my  husband,  who  knew  that  the  woods  were 
full  of  Yankees.  "  If  we  can't  see  them  they 
can't  see  us,  and  how  are  they  to  know  but 
we  are  Yankees  unless  you  tell  them,  you 
blathering  idiot?  " 

"  The  divil  a  bit  Oi'll  be  tellin'  'em,  the 
nasty  blue  thaves.  Thrust  Miles  O'Flanni- 
gan  for  thet.  But  they  could  just  come 
out  o'  them  woods,  they  could,  an'  take 
us  all  prisoners  an'  we'd  never  know  it. 
An'  the  driver's  the  fust  man  they'd  git, 
sure." 

At  last  Dan  got  out,  mounted  his  horse, 
and  rode  in  front  of  the  ambulance. 

"  Now,"  said  he  to  Miles,  "  follow  me,  and 

if  you  open  your  d mouth  again,  I'll  blow 

your  brains  out." 

Lieutenant  Wumble  brought  up  the  rear, 
riding  behind  the  ambulance  with  a  cocked 
pistol.  And  so  we  rode  through  the  Egyp- 
tian darkness  of  the  night,  and  the  now  more 
than  Egyptian  silence.  Miles's  mouth  was 
effectually  closed.  He  followed  Dan,  whom 
23  343 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

he  could  not  see,  by  the  sound  of  his  horse's 
tread,  and  as  he  was  careful  to  keep  as 
close  to  him  as  possible  we  made  better 
progress. 

We  had  been  in  the  darkness  so  long  that 
none  of  us  knew  our  whereabouts.  Presently 
we  heard  the  low,  deep  mutterings  of  thunder. 
It  came  nearer  and  grew  louder  rapidly.  Sud- 
denly the  sky  seemed  rent!  There  came  a 
sheet  of  white  lightning  and  with  it  an  awful 
crash  which  made  my  heart  stand  still.  A 
tree  a  few  feet  from  us  had  been  struck.  The 
lightning  had  shown  us  that  we  were  only  a 
few  miles  from  the  Court-house.  I  have 
never  known  such  a  storm  as  the  one  through 
which  we  traveled  that  night.  One  peal  of 
thunder  did  not  die  away  before  another  be- 
gan. One  instant  we  were  in  thick  darkness 
— a  darkness  that  could  be  felt — the  next, 
ourselves,  the  woods,  the  road,  were  bathed 
in  a  fierce  white  light.  Between  the  Yan- 
kees and  the  storm  that  night  I  think 
Miles  would  have  become  a  gibbering  idiot 
but  for  the  equalizing  influence  of  Dan's 
pistol. 

"  No  trouble  for  the  Yankees  to  rickonize 
344 


The  Beginning  of  the  End 

us — ugh !  "  the  rest  of  the  sentence  would  be 
lost  in  the  darkness,  but  I  knew  that  Miles 
was  feeling  the  salutary  muzzle  of  Dan's  pis- 
tol against  some  part  of  his  face. 

By  the  time  we  entered  the  village  the 
storm  had  abated.  We  drove  to  the  hotel. 
It  was  crowded,  packed  with  soldiers;  no 
room  for  us,  nor  food  either,  and  nine  o'clock 
at  night! 

"  Two  miles  the  other  side  of  town  there 
is  a  place  of  entertainment  where  you  can  be 
accommodated,  I  think,"  the  hotel  proprietor 
told  Dan. 

"  I  don't  go  any  farther  to-night  with  my 
wife,"  Dan  said  resolutely. 

"  It's  not  mesilf  as  wants  to  be  traveling 
any  farther  aither,"  Miles  put  in.  "  It's  divil 
a  bit  of  a  pleasure  ride  Oi'm  havin'." 

He  was  promptly  silenced,  and  was  made 
to  drive  us  around  to  the  various  places  in 
the  village  that  had  been  mentioned;  and  in 
spite  of  the  discouragements  received,  he 
added  his  earnest  solicitations  to  ours  that  we 
might  be  lodged  for  the  night.  But  in  spite 
of  our  own  pleas  and  Miles's  eloquence,  mid- 
night found  us  out  at  the  two-miles  place.  I 
345 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

don't  know  how  long  it  had  taken  us  to  make 
those  two  miles.  We  had  toiled  over  muddy 
roads,  through  fierce  extremes  of  light  and 
darkness,  and  amid  deafening  thunder,  for  the 
storm  had  come  on  again  with  renewed  fury 
and  was  at  its  height  when  we  stopped  at  the 
house  to  which  we  had  been  directed.  In 
response  to  my  husband's  knock  an  old  man 
came  to  the  door — the  meanest  old  man  I 
have  ever  seen  before  or  since.  He  said  we 
couldn't  come  in,  there  wasn't  standing  room 
in  the  house,  the  house  was  full  of  soldiers. 
My  husband  said  he  would  come  in — that  he 
had  a  lady  with  him.  I  think  he  would  have 
shot  that  old  man  then  and  there  rather  than 
have  carried  me  farther.  But  the  old  man 
said  if  he  had  a  lady  with  him  all  the  more 
reason  why  he  should  not  come  in;  the  sol- 
diers were  drinking,  and  he  whispered  to  Dan, 
and  I  saw  Dan  give  in.  He  told  Dan  that  he 
had  a  cousin  in  the  village  who  would  house 
us,  and  he  directed  us  how  to  get  to  this 
cousin's  house,  so  we  turned  and  drove  back 
to  the  village  we  had  just  left.  We  made 
better  time  on  our  return,  as  we  were  better 
directed  and  took  a  shorter  route,  found  the 
346 


The  Beginning  of  the  End 

house  to  which  we  had  been  sent,  and  were 
taken  in. 

It  was  a  strange  old  house,  built  in 
colonial  days,  with  the  veranda  that  ran  all 
around  it  supported  by  tall  Corinthian  col- 
umns. We  woke  the  owner  up  —  an  old 
man,  who  came  down  to  the  door  shivering, 
candle  in  hand,  and  led  us  through  a  latticed 
room,  then  into  another  room  and  up  a  nar- 
row flight  of  stairs  with  sharp  turns  to  a  bed- 
room with  dormer  windows  and  ancient  fur- 
niture. We  were  welcome  to  our  lodgings, 
he  said,  but  he  had  nothing  to  eat  in  the 
house — we  would  be  welcome  to  it  if  he  had. 
He  looked  gaunt  and  hungry  himself. 

We  had  no  fire.  He  left  us  his  candle  and 
went  down  in  the  dark  himself  and  we  got 
to  bed  as  quickly  as  possible.  Lieutenant 
Wumble,  who  was  down-stairs  looking  after 
Miles  and  the  horses  and  the  mules,  got  him- 
self stowed  away  somewhere. 

Next  morning  my  husband  was  ill;  but  the 
old  man's  wife  gave  him  some  of  her  reme- 
dies, and  with  the  help  of  a  little  money  from 
me  got  something  for  us  all  to  eat.  About 
noon  Dan  insisted  that  he  was  able  to  travel, 
347 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

and  that  he  must  reach  his  command  that 
day. 

When  we  arrived  at  Petersburg  my  hus- 
band put  me  on  the  train  for  Richmond  and 
bade  me  good-by.  It  was  the  last  time  I  saw 
him  before  the  surrender. 


348 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

HOW   WE    LIVED    IN    THE   LAST    DAYS    OF    THE 
CONFEDERACY 

Though  the  last  act  of  our  heroic  tragedy- 
was  already  beginning  I  was  so  far  from  sus- 
pecting it  that  I  joined  mother  at  the  Arling- 
ton, prepared  to  make  a  joke  of  hardships 
and  wring  every  possible  drop  of  pleasure  out 
of  a  winter  in  Richmond,  varied,  as  I  fondly 
imagined,  by  frequent  if  brief  visits  from  Dan. 

The  Arlington  was  kept  on  something 
like  the  European  plan,  not  from  choice  of 
landlady  or  guests  but  from  grim  necessity. 
Feeding  a  houseful  of  people  was  too  ardu- 
ous and  uncertain  an  undertaking  in  those 
days  for  a  woman  to  assume.  Mrs.  Fry,  be- 
fore our  arrival  in  July,  had  informed  her 
boarders  that  they  could  continue  to  rent 
their  rooms  from  her,  but  that  they  must  pro- 
vide their  own  meals.  We  paid  her  $25  a 
month  for  our  room — the  price  of  a  house 
349 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

in  good  times  and  in  good  money.  During 
my  absence  in  Mansfield,  Hicksford,  and 
other  places,  mother,  to  reduce  expenses,  had 
rented  half  of  her  room  and  bed  to  Delia 
McArthur,  of  Petersburg.  I  now  rented  a 
little  bed  from  Mrs.  Fry  for  myself,  and  set 
it  up  in  the  same  room. 

We  had  become  so  poor  and  had  so  little 
to  cook  that  we  did  most  of  our  cooking 
ourselves  over  the  grate,  each  woman  often 
pooking  her  own  little  rations.  There  was  an 
old  negress  living  in  the  back  yard  who 
cooked  for  any  or  all  of  us  when  we  had 
something  that  could  not  be  prepared  by  our- 
selves over  the  grate.  Sometimes  we  got 
hold  of  a  roast,  or  we  would  buy  two  quarts 
of  flour,  a  little  dab  of  lard,  and  a  few  pinches 
of  salt  and  treat  ourselves  to  a  loaf  of  bread, 
which  the  old  negress  cooked  for  us,  charg- 
ing ten  dollars  for  the  baking.  But  as  a  rule 
the  grate  was  all  sufficient.  We  boiled  rice 
or  dried  apples  or  beans  or  peas  in  our  stew- 
pan,  and  we  had  a  frying-pan  if  there  was 
anything  to  fry. 

Across  the  hall  from  us  Miss  Mary  Pagett, 
of  Petersburg,  had  a  room  to  herself.  She 
35o 


The  Last  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

worked  in  one  of  the  departments,  and  in 
order  that  she  might  have  her  meals  in  time 
she  went  into  partnership  with  us.  Every 
morning  she  would  put  in  with  our  rations 
whatever  she  happened  to  have  for  that  day, 
and  mother  would  cook  it  and  have  it  ready 
when  she  came.  Down-stairs  under  our 
room  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sampson,  their  daughters 
Nan  and  Beth,  and  their  son  Don,  all  of 
Petersburg  and  old  neighbors  and  friends  of 
ours,  lived,  slept,  cooked,  and  ate  in  two 
rooms,  a  big  and  a  little  one.  They  lived  as 
we  did,  cooking  over  their  grates. 

Sometimes  we  all  put  what  we  had  together 
and  ate  in  company.  When  any  of  us  secured 
at  any  time  some  eatable  out  of  the  common, 
if  it  was  enough  to  go  around  we  invited  the 
others  into  breakfast,  dinner,  or  tea,  as  the 
case  might  be.  It  must  be  understood  that 
from  the  meal  called  "  tea,"  the  beverage 
from  which  the  meal  is  named  was  nearly 
always  omitted.  Our  fare  was  never  very 
sumptuous — often  it  was  painfully  scanty. 
Sometimes  we  would  all  get  so  hungry  that 
we  would  put  together  all  the  money  we 
could  rake  and  scrape  and  buy  a  bit  of  roast 
351 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

or   something    else    substantial   and   have   a 
feast. 

We  all  bought  coal  in  common.  Moth- 
er's, mine,  and  Delia's  portion  of  the  coal 
was  a  ton,  and  we  had  to  keep  it  in  our  room 
— there  was  no  other  place  to  store  it.  We 
had  a  box  in  our  room  which  held  a  ton,  and 
the  coal  was  brought  up-stairs  and  dumped 
into  that  box.  I  can  see  those  darkies  now, 
puffing  and  blowing,  as  they  brought  that 
coal  up  those  many  steps.  And  how  we  had 
to  scuffle  around  to  pay  them!  For  some 
jobs  we  paid  in  trade — only  we  had  very  little 
to  trade  off.  How  that  room  held  all  its  con- 
tents I  can't  make  out.  Dan  sent  me  pro- 
visions by  the  quantity  when  he  could  get  any 
and  get  them  through  to  me.  He  would  send 
a  bag  of  potatoes  or  peas,  and  he  never  sent 
less  than  a  firkin  of  butter — delicious  butter 
from  Orange  County.  The  bags  of  peas,  rice, 
and  potatoes  were  disposed  around  the  room, 
and  around  the  hearth  were  arranged  our 
pots,  pans,  kettles,  and  cooking  utensils  gen- 
erally. When  we  bought  wood  that  was  put 
under  the  beds.  In  addition  to  all  our  useful 
and  ornamental  articles  we  had  our  three 
352 


The  Last  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

selves  and  our  trunks;  such  clothing  as  we 
possessed  had  to  be  hung  up  for  better  keep- 
ing— and  this  was  a  time  when  it  behooved 
us  to  cherish  clothes  tenderly.  Then  there 
was  our  laundrying,  which  was  done  in  that 
room  by  ourselves. 

And  we  had  company!  Certainly  we 
seemed  to  have  demonstrated  the  truth  of 
the  adage,  "  Ole  Virginny  never  tire."  We 
had  company,  and  we  had  company  to  eat 
with  us,  and  enjoyed  it. 

Sometimes  our  guests  were  boys  from 
camp  who  dropped  in  and  took  stewed  apples 
or  boiled  peas,  as  the  case  might  be.  If  we 
were  particularly  fortunate  we  offered  a  cup 
of  tea  sweetened  with  sugar.  The  soldier 
who  dropped  in  always  got  a  part — and  the 
best  part — of  what  we  had.  If  things  were 
scant  we  had  smiles  to  make  up  for  the  lack 
of  our  larder,  and  to  hide  its  bareness. 

How  we  were  pinched  that  winter!  how 
often  we  were  hungry!  and  how  anxious  and 
miserable  we  were!  And  yet  what  fun  we 
had!  The  boys  laughed  at  our  crowded  room 
and  we  laughed  with  them.  After  we  bought 
our  wood  it  was  Robert  E.  Lee's  adjutant 
353 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

who  first  observed  the  ends  sticking  out  from 
under  the  bed;  he  was  heartily  amused  and 
greatly  impressed  with  the  versatility  of  our 
resources. 

"  I  confidently  expect  to  come  here  some 
day  and  find  a  pig  tied  to  the  leg  of  the  bed, 
and  a  brood  or  two  of  poultry  utilizing  waste 
space,"  said  Colonel  Taylor. 

He  wasn't  so  far  out  of  the  way,  for  we 
did  get  hold  of  a  lean  chicken  once  some  way 
or  other,  and  we  tied  it  to  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
and  tried  to  fatten  it  with  boiled  peas. 

We  devised  many  small  ways  for  making 
a  little  money.  We  knit  gloves  and  socks 
and  sold  them,  and  Miss  Beth  Sampson  had 
some  old  pieces  of  ante-bellum  silk  that  she 
made  into  neckties  and  sold  for  what  she 
could  get.  For  the  rest,  when  we  had  no 
money,  we  went  without  those  things  which 
it  took  money  to  buy.  With  money  a  bit  of 
meat  now  and  then,  a  taste  of  sorghum,  and 
even  the  rare  luxury  of  a  cup  of  tea  sweetened 
with  sugar,  was  possible.  Without  money, 
we  had  to  depend  upon  the  bags  of  peas,  dried 
apples,  or  rice. 

"  If  I  ever  keep  house,"  said  Miss  Mary 
354 


The  Last  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

one  day  when  we  were  getting  supper  ready, 
"  there  are  three  things  which  shall  never 
come  into  it,  rice,  dried  apples,  and  peas." 

Mother  was  at  the  bureau  slicing  bread, 
Delia  McArthur  was  setting  the  table,  I  was 
getting  butter  out  of  the  firkin  and  making 
it  into  prints,  and  Miss  Mary  with  gloves  on 
— whenever  she  had  anything  to  do  she  al- 
ways put  gloves  on — was  peeling  and  slicing 
tomatoes. 

"  I  never  want  to  hear  of  rice,  dried  apples, 
or  peas  again!  "  came  from  all  sides  of  the 
room. 

"  If  this  war  is  ever  at  an  end,"  sighed 
poor  mother,  "  I  hope  I  may  sit  down  and 
eat  at  a  decent  table  again.  And  I  fervently 
hope  that  nobody  will  ever  set  a  dish  of  rice, 
peas,  or  dried  apples  before  me!  If  they  do, 
I  shall  get  up  and  leave  the  table." 

"  Me  too,"  I  piped.  "  Even  if  I  didn't 
hate  the  things  I  should  feel  sensitive  on  the 
subject  and  take  the  offering  of  such  a  dish 
to  me  as  a  personal  reflection." 

One  day  we  agreed  to  have  a  feast.  The 
Sampsons  were  to  bring  their  contributions, 
Miss  Mary  and  Delia  McArthur  to  put  in 
355 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

theirs  as  usual,  and  mother  and  I  to  contrib- 
ute our  share,  of  course.  Each  of  us  had  the 
privilege  of  inviting  a  friend  to  tea.  Our 
room  was  chosen  as  the  common  supper- 
room  because  it  had  fewer  things  in  it  and 
was  less  crowded  than  the  Sampsons'.  The 
Sampsons,  in  addition  to  their  coal-box, 
wood-pile,  bags  and  barrels  of  provisions,  had 
one  more  bed  than  we  had,  and  also  a  piano. 
We  had  our  tea-party  and,  guests  and  all, 
we  had  a  merry  time. 

I  never  remember  having  more  fun  in  my 
life  than  at  the  Arlington,  where  sometimes 
we  were  hungry,  and  while  the  country,  up  to 
our  doors,  bristled  with  bayonets,  and  the  air 
we  breathed  shook  with  the  thunder  of  guns. 

For  hungry  and  shabby  as  we  were, 
crowded  into  our  one  room  with  bags  of  rice 
and  peas,  firkins  of  butter,  a  ton  of  coal,  a 
small  wood-pile,  cooking  utensils,  and  all  of 
our  personal  property,  we  were  not  in  despair. 
Our  faith  in  Lee  and  his  ragged,  freezing, 
starving  army  amounted  to  a  superstition. 
We  cooked  our  rice  and  peas  and  dried  apples, 
and  hoped  and  prayed.  By  this  time  our 
bags  took  up  little  room.  We  had  had  a 
356 


The  Last  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

bag  of  potatoes,  but  it  was  nearly  empty, 
there  were  only  a  few  handfuls  of  dried  apples 
left — and  I  must  say  that  even  in  the  face  of 
starvation  I  was  glad  of  that ! — and  there  was 
a  very  small  quantity  of  rice  in  our  larder. 
We  had  more  peas  than  anything  else. 

I  had  not  heard  from  my  husband  for 
more  than  a  week — indeed,  there  seems  to 
have  been  in  Richmond  at  this  time  a  singular 
ignorance  concerning  our  reverses  around 
Petersburg.  There  were  hunger  and  naked- 
ness and  death  and  pestilence  and  fire  and 
sword  everywhere,  and  we,  fugitives  from 
shot  and  shell,  knew  it  well,  but,  somehow, 
we  laughed  and  sang  and  played  on  the  piano 
• — and  never  believed  in  actual  defeat  and  sub- 
jugation. 

Sunday  morning,  the  second  of  April,  as 
President  Davis  sat  in  his  pew  at  St.  Paul's 
Church,  a  slip  of  paper  was  brought  to  him. 
He  read  it,  quietly  arose,  and  left  the  church. 

General  Lee  advised  the  evacuation  of 
Richmond  by  eight  o'clock  that  night.  That 
was  what  rumor  told  us  at  the  Arlington. 
At  first  we  did  not  believe  it,  but  as  that 
spring  day  wore  on  we  were  convinced.  The 
357 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

Sabbath  calm  was  changed  to  bustle  and 
confusion — almost  into  riot.  The  streets 
were  full  of  people  hurrying  in  all  directions, 
but  chiefly  in  the  direction  of  the  Danville 
depot.  Men,  women,  and  children  jostled 
each  other  in  their  haste  to  reach  this  spot. 
Loaded  vehicles  of  every  description  rattled 
over  the  pavements. 

During  the  day  proclamation  was  made 
that  all  who  wished  could  come  to  the  Com- 
missary Department  and  get  anything  they 
wanted  in  the  way  of  provisions — without 
pay.  I  for  one,  in  spite  of  my  loathing  for 
dried  apples  and  peas,  and  a  lively  objection 
to  starvation,  would  not  entertain  the 
thought  at  first.  But  the  situation  was 
serious.  We  discussed  it  in  council,  sitting 
around  our  room  on  beds,  chairs,  trunks,  and 
the  floor.  We  could  not  foresee  the  straits  to 
which  we  might  be  brought.  We  considered 
that  the  evacuation  of  Richmond  implied  we 
knew  not  what.  Unless  we  provided  now  by 
laying  in  some  stores  we  might  actually 
starve.  Besides,  Mrs.  Sampson  said  she  was 
just  bound  to  have  a  whole  barrel  of  flour,  and 
she  was  going  for  it.  That  declaration  wound 
358 


The  Last  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

up  the  conference.  Mother  said  she  would 
go  with  Mrs.  Sampson,  and  I  must  needs  go, 
I  thought,  to  protect  mother.  We  put  on  our 
bonnets — home-made  straw  trimmed  with 
chicken  feathers — and  started.  Such  a  crowd 
as  we  found  ourselves  in!  such  a  starveling 
mob!  I  got  frightened  and  sick,  and  mother 
and  Mrs.  Sampson  were  daunted.  We  had 
not  gone  many  squares  before  we  changed 
our  course,  and  went  to  Mrs.  Taylor's  (Colo- 
nel Walter  Taylor's  mother)  and  I  ran  up 
the  steps  and  asked  her  to  lend  us  Bob,  her 
youngest  son,  who  was  at  home  then,  for  our 
escort. 

She  and  Bob  explained  regretfully  that 
he  could  not  serve  us.  Walter  was  to  be  mar- 
ried that  day,  and  Bob  had  his  hands  full  at 
home. 

"  Married?  "  I  cried  in  astonishment.  I 
had  known  of  his  engagement,  and  that  he 
expected  to  be  married  as  soon  as  possible, 
but  marrying  at  this  crisis  was  incredible. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bob.  "  I  took  the  despatch 
to  Betty  while  she  was  at  church  this  morn- 
ing. He  told  her  to  be  ready  and  he  would 
come  to  Richmond  this  afternoon  for  the  cer- 
24  359 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

emony.  You  see,  General  Lee  is  going  to 
move  the  army  west,  and  nobody  knows  for 
how  long  it  will  be  gone,  nor  what  will  hap- 
pen, and  if  Betty  is  married  to  Walter  she  can 
go  to  him  if  he  gets  hurt." 

Of  course,  as  Bob  had  to  make  all  the 
necessary  arrangements  for  the  event  his 
escort  at  the  present  moment  was  out  of  the 
question. 

Somehow  Mrs.  Sampson  managed  to  get 
her  barrel  of  flour  and  have  it  brought  to  her 
room,  but  we  didn't  get  anything. 

That  afternoon  as  I  sat  at  my  window  I 
saw  Walter  ride  up  to  the  Crenshaws',  where 
Betty  was  staying.  He  remained  in  the 
house  just  long  enough  for  the  ceremony  to 
be  performed,  came  out,  sprang  on  his  horse, 
and  rode  away  rapidly. 

President  Davis  and  his  Cabinet  left  Rich- 
mond that  afternoon  in  a  special  train. 
Everybody  who  could  go  was  going.  We 
had  no  money  to  go  with,  though  we  did  not 
know  where  we  would  have  gone  if  the  money 
had  been  forthcoming. 

As  darkness  came  upon  the  city  confusion 
and  disorder  increased.  People  were  running 
360 


The  Last  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

about  everywhere  with  plunder  and  pro- 
visions. Barrels  and  boxes  were  rolled  and 
tumbled  about  the  streets  as  they  had  been 
all  day.  Barrels  of  liquor  were  broken  open 
and  the  gutters  ran  with  whisky  and  molasses. 
There  were  plenty  of  straggling  soldiers  about 
who  had  too  much  whisky,  rough  women  had 
it  plentifully,  and  many  negroes  were  drunk. 
The  air  was  filled  with  yells,  curses,  cries  of 
distress,  and  horrid  songs.  No  one  in  the 
house  slept.  We  moved  about  between  each 
other's  rooms,  talked  in  whispers,  and  tried 
to  nerve  ourselves  for  whatever  might  come. 
A  greater  part  of  the  night  I  sat  at  my  win- 
dow. 

In  the  pale  dawn  I  saw  a  light  shoot  up 
from  Shockoe  Warehouse.  Presently  sol- 
diers came  running  down  the  streets.  Some 
carried  balls  of  tar;  some  carried  torches.  As 
they  ran  they  fired  the  balls  of  tar  and  pitched 
them  onto  the  roofs  of  prominent  houses  and 
into  the  windows  of  public  buildings  and 
churches.  I  saw  balls  pitched  on  the  roof  of 
General  R.  E.  Lee's  home.  As  the  day  grew 
lighter  I  saw  a  Confederate  soldier  on  horse- 
back pause  almost  under  my  window.  He 
361 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

wheeled  and  fired  behind  him;  rode  a  short 
distance,  wheeled  and  fired  again;  and  so  on, 
wheeling  and  firing  as  he  went  until  he  was 
out  of  sight.  Coming  up  the  street  from  that 
end  toward  which  his  fire  had  been  directed 
and  from  which  he  had  come,  rode  a  body  of 
men  in  blue  uniforms.  It  was  not  a  very  large 
body,  they  rode  slowly,  and  passed  just  be- 
neath my  window.  Exactly  at  eight  o'clock 
the  Confederate  flag  that  fluttered  above  the 
Capitol  came  down  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
were  run  up.  We  knew  what  that  meant! 
The  song  "  On  to  Richmond!  "  was  ended — 
Richmond  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Federals. 
We  covered  our  faces  and  cried  aloud.  All 
through  the  house  was  the  sound  of  sobbing. 
It  was  as  the  house  of  mourning,  the  house  of 
death. 

Soon  the  streets  were  full  of  Federal 
troops,  marching  quietly  along.  The  beauti- 
ful sunlight  flashed  back  everywhere  from 
Yankee  bayonets.  I  saw  negroes  run  out 
into  the  street  and  falling  on  their  knees  be- 
fore the  invaders  hail  them  as  their  deliverers, 
embracing  the  knees  of  the  horses,  and  al- 
most preventing  the  troops  from  moving  for- 
362 


The  Last  Days  of  the  Confederacy 

ward.  It  had  been  hard  living  and  poor  fare 
in  Richmond  for  negroes  as  well  as  whites; 
and  the  negroes  at  this  time  believed  the  im- 
mediate blessings  of  freedom  greater  than 
they  would  or  could  be. 

The  saddest  moment  of  my  life  was  when 
I  saw  that  Southern  Cross  dragged  down 
and  the  Stars  and  Stripes  run  up  above  the 
Capitol.  I  am  glad  the  Stars  and  Stripes  are 
waving  there  now.  But  I  am  true  to  my 
old  flag  too,  and  as  I  tell  this  my  heart  turns 
sick  with  the  supreme  anguish  of  the  moment 
when  I  saw  it  torn  down  from  the  height 
where  valor  had  kept  it  waving  for  so  long 
and  at  such  cost. 

Was  it  for  this,  I  thought,  that  Jackson 
had  fallen?  for  this  that  my  brave,  laughing 
Stuart  was  dead — dead  and  lying  in  his  grave 
in  Hollywood  under  the  very  shadow  of  that 
flag  floating  from  the  Capitol,  in  hearing  of 
these  bands  playing  triumphant  airs  as  they 
marched  through  the  streets  of  Richmond,  in 
hearing  of  those  shouts  of  victory?  O  my 
chevalier!  I  had  to  thank  God  that  the  kindly 
sod  hid  you  from  all  those  sights  and  sounds 
so  bitter  to  me  then.  I  looked  toward  Holly- 
363 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

•Wood  with  streaming  eyes  and  thanked  God 
for  your  sake.  Was  it  to  this  end  we  had 
fought  and  starved  and  gone  naked  and  cold? 
to  this  end  that  the  wives  and  children  of 
many  a  dear  and  gallant  friend  were  husband- 
less  and  fatherless?  to  this  end  that  our  homes 
were  in  ruins,  our  State  devastated?  to  this 
end  that  Lee  and  his  footsore  veterans  were 
seeking  the  covert  of  the  mountains? 


364 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

UNDER   THE   STARS   AND    STRIPES 

The  Arlington  is  one-half  of  a  double 
house,  a  veranda  without  division  serving 
for  both  halves.  Just  before  noon  up  rode  a 
regiment  of  Yankees  and  quartered  them- 
selves next  door.  We  could  hear  them  mov- 
ing about  and  talking,  and  rattling  their 
sabers.  But  I  must  add  that  they  were  very 
quiet  and  orderly.  There  was  no  unnecessary 
noise.  They  all  went  out  again,  on  duty,  I 
suppose,  leaving  their  baggage  and  servants 
behind  them.  They  did  not  molest  or  disturb 
us  in  any  way.  After  a  while  we  heard  a  rap 
on  the  door,  and  on  opening  it  three  men 
entered.  They  were  fully  armed,  and  had 
come,  as  they  said,  to  search  the  house  for 
rebels.  The  one  who  undertook  to  search 
our  rooms  came  quite  in  and  closed  the  door 
while  his  companions  went  below.  He  was 
very  drunk.  Anxious  to  get  rid  of  him 
quickly  I  helped  him  in  his  search. 
365 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

He  touched  my  arm  and  whispered:  "  Sis, 
I'm  good  Secesh  as  you — but  don't  say  noth- 
in'  about  it." 

"  You'd  better  look  thoroughly,"  I  in- 
sisted, pretending  not  to  hear  him. 

Going  to  the  bed  I  threw  the  mattress 
over  so  he  could  see  that  no  one  was  con- 
cealed beneath.  He  followed  and  touched 
my  arm  again. 

"  Good  Secesh  as  you  is,  sis.  I  ain't 
agwine  to  look  into  nothin',  sis." 

"  There's  nothing  for  you  to  find,"  I  in- 
formed him,  as  I  pulled  a  bureau  drawer  open 
for  his  inspection. 

He  waved  it  away  with  scorn.  "  I,"  he 
repeated,  touching  his  breast,  "  am  good 
Secesh.  Don't  want  to  see  nothin'.  Don't 
you  say  nothin' — I'm  good  Secesh  as  you  is, 
sis." 

I  led  the  way  into  the  next  room  to  be 
searched,  he  following,  asseverating  in  tipsy 
whispers,  "  Good  Secesh  as  you  is,  sis,"  every 
few  minutes. 

We  found  little  Ruf  Pagett  cleaning  his 
gun. 

"  Better  hide  that,  sonny,"  said  our 
366 


Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

friend,  glancing  around.  "  That  other  fellow 
out  there,  he'll  take  it  from  you.  But  /  won't 
take  it  from  you.  I  won't  take  nothin'.  I'm 
good  Secesh  as  you  is,  bud.  Hide  your  gun, 
bud." 

Down-stairs  our  friends  were  having  a 
harder  time.  The  men  who  went  through 
their  rooms  searched  everywhere,  and  tum- 
bled their  things  around  outrageously.  I 
could  hear  Mrs.  Sampson  quarreling.  They 
went  away,  but  returned  to  search  again. 
She  said  she  wouldn't  stand  it — she  would 
report  them.  She  saw  General  Weitzel  and 
made  her  complaint,  and  he  told  her  that  the 
men  were  stragglers  and  had  no  authority  for 
what  they  had  done.  If  they  could  be  found 
they  would  be  punished.  Before  this  time 
the  fire  had  been  brought  under  control. 
Houses  not  a  square  from  us  had  been  in 
flames.  What  saved  us  was  an  open  space 
between  us  and  the  nearest  house  which  had 
been  on  fire,  and  wet  blankets.  Mrs.  Fry's 
son  had  had  wet  blankets  spread  over  our 
roof  for  protection,  and  we  had  also  kept  wet 
blankets  hung  in  our  windows.  At  one  time, 
however,  cinders  and  smoke  had  blown  into 
367 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

my  room  till   the   air  was   stifling   and   the 
danger  great. 

A  niece  of  my  husband's,  a  beautiful  girl 
of  eighteen,  who  had  been  ill  with  typhoid 
fever,  had  to  be  carried  out  of  a  burning 
house  that  night  and  laid  on  a  cot  in  the 
street.  She  died  in  the  street  and  I  heard  of 
other  sick  persons  who  died  from  the  terror 
and  exposure  of  that  time. 

As  night  came  on  many  people  were  wan- 
dering about  without  shelter,  amid  blackened 
ruins.  In  the  Square  numbers  were  huddled 
for  the  night  under  improvised  shelter  or 
without  any  protection  at  all.  But  profound 
quiet  reigned — the  quiet  of  desolation  as  well 
as  of  order.  The  city  had  been  put  under 
martial  law  as  soon  as  the  Federals  took  pos- 
session; order  and  quiet  had  been  quickly 
established  and  were  well  preserved.  Our 
next-door  neighbors  were  so  quiet  that  with 
only  a  wall  between  we  sometimes  forgot 
their  presence. 

I  must  tell  of  one  person  who  did  not 
weep  because  the  Yankees  had  come.    That 
was  a  little  girl  in  the  house  who  clapped  her 
hands  and  danced  all  around. 
368 


Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

"The  Yankees  have  come!  the  Yankees 
have  come!  "  she  shouted,  "  and  now  we'll  get 
something  to  eat.  I'm  going  to  have  pickles 
and  molasses  and  oranges  and  cheese  and 
nuts  and  candy  until  I  have  a  fit  and  die." 

She  soon  made  acquaintances  next  door. 
The  soldiers  or  their  servants  gave  her  what 
she  asked  for.  She  stuffed  herself  with  what 
they  gave  her,  and  that  night  she  had  a  fit 
and  died,  as  she  had  said  in  jest  she  would, 
poor  little  soul! 

That  afternoon  there  was  a  funeral  from 
the  house,  and  all  day  there  were  burials  going 
on  in  Hollywood. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  third,  when 
Miss  Mary  Pagett  threw  open  her  blinds,  she 
beheld  the  gallery  under  her  window  lined 
with  sleeping  Yankees.  When  Delia  McAr- 
thur  and  I  went  out  for  a  walk  we  came  upon 
Federal  soldiers  asleep  on  the  sidewalks  and 
everywhere  there  was  a  place  for  weary  men 
to  drop  down  and  rest.  In  all  this  time  of 
horror  I  don't  think  anything  was  much 
harder  than  making  up  our  minds  to  "  draw 
rations  from  the  Yankees."  We  said  we 
zvould  not  do  it — we  could  not  do  it! 
369 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

But  as  hunger  gained  upon  us  and  star- 
vation stared  us  in  the  face  Mrs.  Sampson 
rose  up  in  her  might! 

"  I'll  take  anything  I  can  get  out  of  the 
Yankees!"  she  exclaimed.  "They  haven't 
had  any  delicacy  of  feeling  in  taking  every- 
thing we've  got!     I'm  going  for  rations!  " 

So  Mrs.  Sampson  nerved  herself  up  to  the 
point  where  she  took  quite  a  pleasure  and 
pride  in  her  mission.  But  not  so  with  the  rest 
of  us.  It  was  a  bitter  pill,  hard,  hard  to  swal- 
low. Mother,  to  whose  lot  some  species  of 
martyrdom  was  always  falling,  elected  to  go 
with  Mrs.  Sampson.  So  forth  sallied  these 
old  Virginia  matrons  to  "  draw  rations  from 
the  Yankees."  However,  once  on  our  way 
to  humiliation  we  began  to  console  ourselves 
with  thoughts  of  the  loaves  and  fishes.  We 
would  have  enough  to  eat — sugar  and  tea 
and  other  delights!  Presently  mother  and 
Mrs.  Sampson  returned,  each  with  a  dried 
codfish!  There  was  disappointment  and 
there  was  laughter.  As  each  stately  matron 
came  marching  in,  holding  her  codfish  at 
arm's  length  before  her,  Delia  McArthur  and 
I  fell  into  each  other's  arms  laughing.  Be- 
370 


Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

sides  the  codfish,  they  had  each  a  piece  of  fat, 
strong  bacon  about  the  size  of  a  handkerchief 
folded  once,  and  perhaps  an  inch  thick. 
Now,  we  had  had  no  meat  for  a  great  while, 
and  we  were  completely  worn  out  with  dried 
apples  and  peas,  so  we  immediately  set  about 
cooking  our  bacon.  Having  such  a  great 
dainty  and  rare  luxury,  we  felt  ourselves  in  a 
position  to  invite  company  to  dinner.  Mrs. 
Sampson  invited  half  of  the  household  to  dine 
with  her,  and  we  invited  the  other  half.  Soon 
there  was  a  great  sputtering  and  a  delicious 
smell  issuing  from  the  Sampsons'  apartments 
and  from  ours. 

Mother  sliced  the  meat  into  the  pan,  and 
I  sat  on  the  floor  and  held  it  over  the  fire, 
while  Delia  spread  the  table.  There  was  a 
pot  on,  which  had  to  be  stirred  now  and  then. 
I,  who  always  had  a  fertile  brain  in  culinary 
matters,  suggested  that  the  potatoes — I 
neglected  to  state  that  a  handful  of  potatoes 
had  been  dealt  out  with  our  rations — should 
be  sliced  very  thin  and  dropped  into  the  pan 
with  the  meat;  and  this  done  I  fried  them 
quite  brown,  taking  much  pains  and  pride  in 
the  achievement.  Mother  dished  up  the  peas 
371 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

and  set  them  on  the  table  before  our  guests; 
and  I  passed  around  the  fried  meat  and 
potatoes  in  the  frying-pan,  from  which  the 
company,  with  much  grace  and  delicacy, 
helped  themselves.  Oh,  how  delicious  it 
was! 

As  for  the  codfish,  we  had  immediately 
hung  that  out  of  the  window.  The  passer-by 
in  the  street  below  could  behold  it,  dangling 
from  its  string,  a  melancholy  and  fragrant 
codfish.  From  Mrs.  Sampson's  window  just 
below  ours  hung  another  melancholy  codfish 
just  like  the  one  above  it.  We  paid  the  old 
negress  to  do  things  for  us  with  codfish — but 
not  a  whole  codfish  at  a  time.  We  cut  off 
pieces  of  it,  and  so  made  good  bargains,  and 
one  codfish  go  as  far  as  possible.  We  had  by 
this  time  got  to  a  place  where  economy  was 
not  only  a  virtue  but  a  necessity  of  the  direst 
sort. 

The  last  time  I  was  in  Richmond  I  took 
my  children  by  the  Arlington  and  pointed 
out  to  them  the  window  from  which  our  cod- 
fish hung. 

And  now  Betty  Taylor — Walter's  bride — 
and  I  began  planning  to  run  through  the 
372 


Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

Yankee  lines  together  and  join  our  hus- 
bands. 

We  did  not  think  even  then,  you  see,  that 
the  war  was  over.  Our  faith  was  still  credit- 
ing superhuman  powers  to  Lee  and  his  skele- 
ton army.  Then  there  was  President  Davis's 
proclamation  issued  from  Danville,  wherein 
we  found  encouragement  for  hope.  Then 
came  the  blow.  We  heard  that  Lee  had  sur- 
rendered. Lee  surrendered!  that  couldn't  be 
true !  But  even  while  we  were  refusing  to  be- 
lieve it  General  Lee,  accompanied,  as  I  re- 
member, by  one  or  two  members  of  his  staff, 
rode  up  to  his  door.  He  bared  his  weary  gray 
head  to  the  people  who  gathered  around 
him  with  greetings  and  passed  into  his 
house. 

Hope  was  dead  at  last.  But  other  things, 
precious  and  imperishable,  remained  to  us 
and  to  our  children — the  things  that  make 
for  loyalty  and  courage  and  endurance — an 
invincible  faith — the  enduring  record  of 
heroic  example.  Lee  had  surrendered,  but 
Lee  was  still  himself  and  our  own — a  heritage 
to  be  handed  down  by  Americans  to  America 
when  sectional  distinctions  have  been  swal- 
373 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

lowed  up  in  the  strength  of  a  Union  great 
enough  to  honor  every  son,  whatever  his 
creed,  who  has  lived  and  died  for  "  conscience' 
sake." 

Sitting  in  my  window  that  sorrowful  day 
I  saw  three  officers  in  gray  uniforms  gallop- 
ing rapidly  along  Main  Street.  I  recognized 
familiar  figures  in  them  all  before  they  came 
as  far  as  the  Arlington.  One  turned  out  of 
Main  Street,  riding  home  to  his  wife,  as  I 
knew,  before  they  reached  the  window;  an- 
other did  the  same. 

The  third  came  galloping  past. 

I  thrust  my  head  out  of  the  window.     . 

"  Walter!  "  I  called. 

He  looked  up. 

"Hello,  Nell!"  he  cried,  waving  his  hat 
around  his  head  and  galloping  on. 

He  was  on  his  way  to  his  bride  from 
whom  he  had  parted  at  the  altar. 

But  even  at  this  supreme  moment  of  their 
lives  he  and  Betty  were  good  enough  to  re- 
member me,  and  in  a  few  hours  after  I  hailed 
him  from  the  window  Walter  called. 

"  Where  is  Dan?  "  was  my  first  question. 

"  I  don't  know,  Nell,"  he  answered.  "  But 
374 


Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

I  know  he's  alive  and  well  and  will  be  along 
in  a  few  days." 

That  was  all  the  comfort  I  got  from  any 
friends  returning  from  the  field. 

A  little  later  there  was  a  grand  review 
of  Federal  troops  in  Richmond,  and  I  remem- 
ber how  well-clad  and  sleek  they  were  and 
how  new  and  glittering  were  their  arms. 
Good  boots,  good  hats,  a  whole  suit  of 
clothes  to  every  man — a  long,  bright,  pros- 
perous-looking procession.  On  the  sidewalk 
a  poor  Confederate  in  rags  and  bootless, 
stood  looking  wistfully  on. 

The  next  day  I  heard  that  General 
Rooney  Lee  had  arrived,  and  I  went  to  see 
him.  I  was  shown  up  to  his  mother's  room, 
and  she  told  me  that  he  had  not  come,  but 
was  hourly  expected.  When  I  called  the 
next  day  I  met  him  and  Miss  Mildred  Lee  in 
the  door.  They  were  going  out,  but  the  gen- 
eral stepped  back  with  me  into  the  hall. 

"  I  came  to  see  if  you  could  tell  me  any- 
thing about  Dan,  general." 

"  Mrs.  Grey,"  he  said,  "  you  know  Dan  as 
well  as  I  do.  He  isn't  whipped  yet.  I  told 
him  it  was  all  foolishness,  and  that  the  war 
25  375 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

was  over,  but  he  wouldn't  surrender  with  me, 
and  is  going  through  to  Johnston's  army. 
But  he  will  have  to  come  back,  and  he  will  be 
here  soon,  I  think.  Johnston's  army  has  sur- 
rendered." 

"  You  think  then  that  nothing  has  hap- 
pened to  him,  general?  " 

"  Oh,  no.    I  am  sure  of  that." 

General  Lee  dropped  his  voice. 

"  Mrs.  Grey,  it  may  be  several  days  be- 
fore Dan  gets  in.  In  the  meanwhile  let  me 
supply  your  wants  as  best  I  can.  You  should 
not  mind  applying  to  me  or  accepting  assist- 
ance from  me." 

"  I  appreciate  your  kindness  more  than  I 
can  tell  you,  general,  but  I  don't  really  need 
anything." 

"  If  you  should  stand  in  need  of  money 
or  assistance  of  any  kind  before  Dan  gets  in, 
let  me  know,  won't  you?  " 

"  Indeed  I  will,  dear  general." 

We  all  three  walked  down  Franklin 
Street  together  until  Miss  Mildred,  who  was 
going  to  see  some  friends  on  Grace  Street, 
had  to  turn.  After  the  two  had  just  turned 
the  corner  I  heard  the  general  say: 
376 


Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

"  Wait  for  a  minute,  Mildred." 

He  slipped  back,  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket, 
and  took  out  a  thin  roll  of  bills,  a  very  thin 
roll. 

"  Mrs.  Grey,"  he  said,  "  here  is  all  the 
money  I  have  in  the  world,  ten  dollars  in 
greenbacks.  Take  half  of  it — I  wish  you 
would — it  wouldn't  inconvenience  me  at  all. 
I  will  make  some  more  soon,  and  then  I  will 
divide  with  you  again  until  Dan  comes 
home." 

I  could  hardly  speak  for  tears.  At  that 
moment  I  was  richer  than  my  general.  I  had 
at  home  in  gold  and  greenbacks  more  money 
than  General  Lee. 

"  God  bless  you,  general! "  I  managed  to 
say.  "  But  really  I  don't  need  it.  If  I  do 
really  and  truly  I  will  come  to  you  for  it." 

Franklin  Street  wasn't  a  good  place  to  cry 
in,  so  I  hurried  home. 

Still  the  days  that  passed  did  not  bring 
me  Dan.  I  became  thoroughly  miserable.  I 
sat  in  my  window  and  watched  and  was  cross 
if  anybody  spoke  to  me. 

One  day  a  servant  brought  up  a  mes- 
sage: 

377 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

"  Er  gent'man  in  de  parlor  to  see  yer, 
missy." 

"What  sort  of  a  '  gent'man '  is  it?"  I 
asked  tartly.  There  was  but  one  man  in  the 
world  I  wanted  to  see  or  hear  about  just  then. 

"  He  ain't  lak  our  people,  missy.  He's 
furrin — French  or  suppin  nuther.  He  say 
how  he  usen  ter  know  yer  in  Petersburg.  An' 
how  you  lent  'im  some — er — music — er  sup- 
pin  lak  dat.  An'  he  got — er — errah — suppin 
— I  clar  fo'  de  Lord,  missy,  I  dunno  what  'tis 
— but  he  got  suppin " 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  I  said.  "  He's  that  old 
French  music-teacher,  and  he's  brought  back 
that  old  music  I  lent  him  in  the  year  one. 
Go  tell  him  that  I  don't  want  it;  he  can  have 
it." 

Jake  departed  only  to  return  in  a  more 
perplexed  frame  of  mind  and  state  of  speech. 

"  He  say  how  'tain't  no  music  he's  got  fur 
yer.  He  say — he  do  say,  missy — but  de  Lord 
knows  I  dunno  what  he  say! — but  anyway 
be  bleeged  to  see  yer." 

I  got  up  and  went  down  to  the  parlor  in 
desperation. 

Sure  enough,  it  was  the  little  French 
378 


Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

music-teacher,  and  he  began  apologies,  ac- 
knowledgments and  what  not  in  his  dreadful 
English. 

"  Madame,  I  haf  no  mooseek  to  you — not 
at  all.  I  haf  one  message  of  you  to  ze 
majaire.  If  you  not  b'lief  me,"  he  fumbled  in 
his  pocket  and  brought  out  a  dirty  bit  of 
paper,  "  look  at  ze  cart — vat  sail  I  call  him? 
ze  lettaire.  If  madame  vill  look — I  beg  ze 
pardon  of  madame " 

I  snatched  the  paper  out  of  his  hand. 
And  then — I  couldn't  make  it  out.  Written 
in  the  first  place  with  an  indifferent  pencil  on 
a  worn  bit  of  the  poor  paper  of  that  day  and 
carried  in  the  little  Frenchman's  very  ragged 
and  grimy  pocket,  the  scrawl  was  illegible. 
It  had  never  been  more  than  a  line  of  some 
five  or  six  words.  While  I  was  trying  to 
make  it  out  the  little  Frenchman  explained 
that  it  was  merely  a  line  introducing  himself 
as  the  bearer  of  a  message. 

What  that  message  was  I  never  did  hear, 
though  the  little  Frenchman  did  his  best  to 
deliver  and  I  to  receive  it.  I  got  enough  out 
of  him,  however,  to  know  that  Dan  was  well 
and  on  his  way  to  Richmond.  I  also  under- 
379 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

stood  that  he  was  not  far  from  Richmond 
now,  but  what  was  detaining  him  I  could  not 
make  out,  though  the  little  Frenchman,  with 
many  apologies,  conveyed  the  hint  to  me 
that  it  was  a  delicate  matter.  After  he  was 
gone  I  wondered  why  I  was  so  stupid  as  not 
to  get  the  little  man's  address  so  that  I  could 
send  some  friends  who  understood  French 
after  him.  From  what  he  had  said  I  had  in- 
ferred that  my  husband  would  be  with  me 
the  following  day.  I  watched  in  a  fever  of 
impatience,  but  two  days  passed  and  no  Dan. 

The  third  night  as  I  laid  my  aching  head 
on  the  pillow  I  said:  "  Mother,  if  he  don't 
come  to-morrow,  the  next  day  I  start  out  to 
look  for  him." 

Do  you  know  how  it  is  to  feel  in  your 
sleep  that  some  one  is  looking  at  you?  This 
is  the  sort  of  sensation  that  aroused  me  the 
next  morning,  and  I  opened  my  eyes  in  the 
early  dawn  to  find  my  husband  standing  by  the 
bed  with  clasped  hands  looking  down  at  me. 

Ah,  we  were  happy — we  were  happy! 
Ragged,  defeated,  broken,  we  but  had  each 
other  and  that  was  enough. 

But  there  is  a  ludicrous  side  that  I  must 
380 


Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

tell  you.  I  must  explain  how  Dan  was 
dressed.  He  wore  a  pair  of  threadbare  gray 
trousers  patched  with  blue;  they  were  much 
too  short  for  him,  and  there  were  holes  which 
were  not  patched  at  all;  he  had  no  socks  on, 
but  wore  a  ragged  shoe  of  one  size  on  one 
foot,  and  on  the  other  a  boot  of  another  size 
and  ragged  too;  he  had  on  a  blue  jacket  much 
too  small  for  him — it  was  conspicuously  too 
short,  and  there  was  a  wide  margin  between 
where  it  ended  and  his  trousers  began,  and 
he  had  on  a  calico  shirt  that  looked  like  pink 
peppermint  candy.  Set  back  on  his  head  was 
an  old  hat,  shot  nearly  all  to  pieces — you 
could  look  through  the  holes,  and  it  had  tags 
hanging  around  where  the  brim  had  been.  He 
was  a  perfect  old  ragman  except  for  the  very 
new  pink  shirt. 

"  My  dear  Dan,"  I  said,  "  what  a  perfect 
fright  you  are!  What  a  dreadful  ragtag  and 
bobtail!" 

"  Why,  Nell,"  he  said,  "  I  thought  these 
very  good  clothes.  What's  missing,  my 
dear?  My  suit  is  very  complete;  whole 
trousers,  jacket,  new  shirt,  hat  on  my  head, 
even  down  to  something  on  both  feet.  Last 
38i 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

week  I  didn't  have  any  shirt,  nor  any  jacket 
to  speak  of,  and  my  trousers  weren't  patched 
and  I  didn't  have  anything  on  my  feet.  One 
reason  I  took  so  long  to  get  here  was  because 
I  was  trying  to  get  a  few  clothes  together — 
I  wasn't  dressed  to  my  taste,  you  see.  It 
took  much  time  and  labor  to  collect  all  this 
wearing  apparel.  I  got  first  one  piece  and 
then  another,  until  I  am  as  you  see  me,  fit  to 
enter  Richmond.  Somebody  stole  my  trou- 
sers one  morning — I  was  in  an  awful  plight. 
That  was  the  time  the  little  Frenchman 
passed  and  I  sent  you  a  message.  Did  he  tell 
you  that  I'd  get  home  as  soon  as  I  got  an- 
other pair  of  trousers  if  somebody  didn't  steal 
my  jacket  by  that  time?  " 

I  was  laughing  and  crying  all  the  time  he 
was  talking.  When  I  pulled  off  boot  and 
shoe  I  found  that  he  had  spoken  the  truth  in 
jest  when  he  said  he  had  been  walking  bare- 
foot nearly  all  the  way.  His  feet  were  sore. 
I  had  some  good  shoes  for  him,  and  I  got  out 
an  old  civilian  suit  that  he  had  worn  before 
the  war.  It  didn't  fit  him  now  and  looked 
antiquated,  but  he  donned  it  with  great  satis- 
faction. 

382 


Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

Then  we  went  out  shopping.  It  was 
shopping  in  a  city  of  ruins.  As  we  walked 
along  the  streets  there  were  smoking  pits  on 
each  side  of  us.  Here  and  there  the  remnants 
of  what  had  been  a  store  enabled  us  to  pur- 
chase shoes  at  one  place  and  the  materials  for 
two  white  shirts  at  another,  and  to  our  great 
joy  we  found  a  hat  for  which  he  paid  two  dol- 
lars, United  States  money. 

We  had  nothing  on  which  to  begin  life 
over  again,  but  we  were  young  and  strong, 
and  began  it  cheerily  enough.  We  are  pros- 
perous now,  our  heads  are  nearly  white;  lit- 
tle grandchildren  cluster  about  us  and  listen 
with  interest  to  grandpapa's  and  grandmam- 
ma's tales  of  the  days  when  they  "  fought  and 
bled  and  died  together."  They  can't  under- 
stand how  such  nice  people  as  the  Yankees 
and  ourselves  ever  could  have  fought  each 
other.  "  It  doesn't  seem  reasonable,"  says 
Nellie  the  third,  who  is  engaged  to  a  gen- 
tleman from  Boston,  where  we  sent  her  to 
cultivate  her  musical  talents,  but  where  she 
applied  herself  to  other  matters,  "  it  doesn't 
seem  reasonable,  grandmamma,  when  you 
could  just  as  easily  have  settled  it  all  com- 
383 


A  Virginia  Girl  in  the  Civil  War 

fortably  without  any  fighting.  How  glad  I 
am  I  wasn't  living  then!  How  thankful  I  am 
that  '  Old  Glory '  floats  alike  over  North  and 
South,  now! " 

And  so  am  I,  my  darling,  so  am  I! 

But  for  us — for  Dan  and  me — we  could 
almost  as  easily  give  up  each  other  as  those 
terrible,  beloved  days.  They  are  the  very 
fiber  of  us. 


(3) 


THE    END 


384 


"THE  FIRST  WOMAN  OF  FRANCE." 

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"  Hall  Caine  has  already  given  us  some  very  strong  and  fine  work,  and  '  The 
Deemster '  is  a  story  of  unusual  power.  .  .  .  Certain  passages  and  chapters  have  an 
intensely  dramatic  grasp,  and  hold  the  fascinated  reader  with  a  force  rarely  excited 
nowadays  in  literature." —  The  Critic. 

The  Bondman.    $1.50. 

New  copyright  edition,  revised  by  the  author. 
"  A  story  of  Iceland  and  Icelanders  at  an  early  era.  Our  author  throws  a  charm 
about  the  homes  and  people  he  describes  which  will  win  the  interest  and  care  of  every 
reader.  Their  simple  lives  and  legends,  which  shaped  and  directed  them,  take  the 
reader  clear  away  from  the  sensational  and  feverish  and  unhealthy  romance  and  give 
the  mind  a  rest." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

The  Scapegoat.    $1.50. 

New  copyright  edition,  revised  by  the  author. 

Capt'n  Davy's  Honeymoon.    $1.00. 
The  Little  Manx  Nation.    $1.00. 

D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


RECENT    FICTION. 


The  Way  of  Escape. 

By  Graham  Travers  (Margaret  Todd,  M.  D.),  author 
of  "  Mona  Maclean,"  "  Windyhaugh,"  etc.  i2mo.  Cloth, 
$1.50. 

"  A  classic."— Philadelphia  Item. 

"  Exceptionally  good." — New  York  Tribune. 

"  Undeniably  clever." — London  Literary  World. 

"  Strong  in  dramatic  incident." — Boston  Budget. 

44  A  work  of  unusual  power." — Chicago  Record- Herald. 

u  Vera  is  a  marvellous  piece  of  womanhood." — London  Star. 

Those  Delightful  Americans. 

By  Mrs.  Everard  Cotes  (Sara  Jeannette  Duncan), 
author  of  "An  American  Girl  in  London,"  "A  Voyage 
of  Consolation,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50 

"  A  particularly  clever  and  amusing  book." — New  York  Sun. 
"  Full  of  clever,  humorous,  oftentimes  subtle  insights  into  the  America? 
character. " — Chicago  Record-Herald. 

My  Captive. 

By  J.  A.  Altsheler,  author  of  "The  Wilderness 
Road,"  "In  Circling  Camps,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

M  A  spirited  and  interesting  narrative." — Philadelphia  Press. 
"  A  mightily  interesting  little  tale  of  the  Revolution.  .  .  .  By  all  odds  be 
cleverest  tale  Mr.  Altsheler  has  written." — Philadelphia  Item. 

The  Outlaws. 

A  Story  of  the  Building  of  the  West.  By  Le  Roy 
Armstrong.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

*'  Promises  well  for  the  literary  career  of  its  author." — Philadelphia  Press. 

"  Full  of  life  and  picturesqueness,  spirited  and  brimming  with  incident 
and  character." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

T'  Bacca  Queen. 

By  T.  Wilson  Wilson.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.00  ;  paper, 
50  cents. 

"  Human  passions  are  depicted  with  a  vividness  amounting  to  a  triumph 
for  the  author,  and  the  novelty  of  the  plot,  the  strength  of  the  characters  in 
the  book,  and  its  forceful  style  will  appeal  strongly  to  the  reader." — Cleve- 
land World. 

D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


RECENT  FICTION* 


The  Talk  of  the  Town. 

By  Elisa  Armstrong  Bengough.  (Novelettes  de 
Luxe  series.)     i6mo.     Gilt  top,  $1.25. 

"  This  world  of  the  American  laboring  man,  and  more  especially  of  his  woman- 
kind, is  portrayed  with  convincing  reality.  It  is  a  new  world  in  our  fiction  as 
Mrs.  Bengough  presents  it,  and  well-worth  knowing.  This  novelette  is  the  work 
of  an  artist." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

The  Things  that  are  Caesar's. 

By  Reginald  Wright  Kauffm an,  Author  of  "  Jarvis 
of  Harvard."     121110.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"Mr.  Kauffman  vindicates  in  this  novel  the  prediction  we  made  on  the  appear- 
ance of  his  first  book.  He  is  already^  a  novelist  of  excellent  actual  performance  • 
he  remains  a  novelist  of  great  promise  for  the  future." — New  York  Mail  and 
Express. 

The  House  Under  the  Sea. 

By  Max  Pemberton,  Author  of  "  Kronstadt,"  "  Foot- 
steps of  a  Throne,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"The  author  has  a  narrative  gift  which  enables  him  to  carry  the  reader  on 
unwearied  to  the  last  page." — New  York  Tribune. 

The  Sea  Lady. 

By  H.  G.  Wells.     Illustrated.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

Mr.  Wells's  vivid  imagination  and  playful  humor  never  found  happier 
expression  than  in  this  fantastic  yet  wholly  amusing  story  of  a  modern 
mermaid  who  is  cast  up  by  the  sea  into  the  electrified  bosom  of  a  respect- 
able British  family. 

A  Son  of  Gad. 

By  John  A.  Steuart,  Author  of  "The  Minister  of 
State,"  "Wine  on  the  Lees,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  It  is  an  excellent,  a  delightful  novel.  Its  leading  characters  deserve  to  take 
their  place  in  the  classical  gallery  of  fiction  portraits." — Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

A  Bayard  from  Bengal. 

By  F.  Anstey,  Author  of  "Vice  Versa,"  "Baboo 
Hurry  Bungsho  Jabberjee,  B.  A.,"  and  "Love  Among  the 
Lions."     Illustrated.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"Mr.^Anstey  gets  his  effect  with  the  little  touches  that  mean  so  much.  _  It  must 
be  read  in  the  book,  with  all  its  absurdities  taken  together,  to  be  appreciated." — 
New  York  Tribune. 

D.    APPLETON    AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


"The  Most  Remarkable  Autobiography ." 

My  Life  in  Many  States  and  in  Foreign  Lands. 

Written  in  the  Mills  Hotel,  in  my  Seventy-fourth  Year. 
By  George  Francis  Train.  Illustrated.  i2mo.  Cloth, 
$1.25  net;  postage,  12  cents  additional. 

"  Positively  fascinating.  His  life  has  been  one  of  stupendous 
commercial  and  important  financial  undertakings." — Boston 
Times. 

"  One  of  the  most  picturesque  figures  ever  known  in  the  his- 
tory of  America,  and  Americans  are  the  most  picturesque  of  all 
modern  peoples." — New  York  Herald. 

"  If  his  career  were  published  as  fiction,  every  one  would  con- 
sider it  so  improbable  as  to  be  ridiculous."—  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"  The  strangest  man  in  the  world  has  written  his  autobiography 
— probably  the  most  remarkable  autobiography  ever  written." — 
New  York  World. 

"  A  tale  that  transcends  in  interest  all  the  remarkable  tales  that 
were  ever  woven  out  of  the  silver  threads  of  fiction  or  the  golden 
threads  of  truth,  putting  to  the  blush  most  of  the  novels  and  all 
the  books  of  personal  narrative  that  have  ever  been  written." — 
Philadelphia  Item. 

"  A  remarkable  story  of  a  remarkable  life,  the  amazing  facts 
of  a  career  without  a  parallel  for  daring  and  eccentricity." — 
Tacoma  Ledger. 

"  This  book  would  be  a  severe  test  of  the  reader's  credulity 
were  the  things  related  not  all  matters  of  actual  history." — Ameri- 
can Review  of  Reviews. 

"  It  reads  like  a  whole  bunch  of  romances  and  melodrama  and 
comedies  and  tragedies  rolled  into  one.  A  human  document  of 
a  rare  kind." — Providence  News. 

"  It  is  the  story  of  a  man  absolutely  fearless  of  consequences, 
of  high  ideals,  and  a  genius  for  taking  hazards  of  new  fortunes.'' 
— New  York  Christian  Work. 

D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


